


Basalit-an

by FenZev, Wintryone



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Qun, Qunari, Tal'Vashoth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenZev/pseuds/FenZev, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintryone/pseuds/Wintryone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Story of Hawke and the Arishok: The Unexpected Demands of the Qun. Co-writers Wintryone & Lucien Grey. Rated M for language & adult content.</p><p>*In loving memory: Michael Lucien Grey*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blackpowder Promise

**Chapter Title: Blackpowder Promise**  
 **Written by: FenZev, Wintryone, & Lucien Grey**  
 **Beta'd by: Eranajz**  
 **Summary: Hawke and the Arishok meet for the first time.**

* * *

Hawke was bored. Not that there wasn't any number of things she could be doing right now, but none of them held the slightest interest for her. Picking the dirt out of the braided hilt of her sword, she sighed audibly in the hopes one of her friends would entertain her.

"Problem, Hawke?" Fenris asked, an amused grin curling his lips. He knew she was bored. She was after all a warrior, as was he, so he was all too familiar with the signs of that particular itch, that need to do _something_.

She leaned forward, placing her heavy sword on the table. "There must be a damsel in distress, or a kitten in a tree, anything to get away from the smell of piss and vomit around here." Hawke wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Now, Hawke," said Varric, as he idly spun a single bolt through his fingers. "I think your nose must be failing you. The _smell of the day_ is most definitely burnt stew and sour ale."

"We could see to the disposal of the Tal-Vashoth," Fenris pointed out, ignoring Varric's comment.

Hawke considered the task. An annoying dwarf who called himself Javaris had asked for her assistance in dealing with the rogue Qunari, and Hawke had been avoiding that particular job. Mostly because she couldn't stand Javaris. As soon as he'd opened his mouth and began spouting off about selling explosives for profit, she'd wanted to walk away. It was Varric who'd convinced her otherwise, with reminders of the money she needed for the Deep Roads expedition. Even so, Hawke wasn't keen on getting wrapped up in Qunari business. So far they had been kind enough to remain locked away in their dockside compound and not bother the citizens of Kirkwall; she felt it best remain that way.

"Tal-Vashoth you say," Hawke repeated the idea. "What do we know about them, anything? Skills, tricks, weaknesses?"

"The Vashoth are those that reject the way of the Qun," Fenris explained. "Most become mercenaries since they lack training from the Qunari army. They are outcasts, vagabonds, and are loyal to none."

"Hmph," Varric grunted. "Bartrand tried to hire them once - the result wasn't pretty, to say the least."

"What happened?" asked Hawke.

"Turns out that once they start killing things, they aren't very... discriminating." Varric's smile was grim. "Bartrand lost nearly a dozen of his own men that trip to _friendly_ fire."

"They sound lovely," Hawke replied sarcastically. She turned her head and raised a brow at Fenris. "So what's with the _Tal_ part?"

Fenris smirked. "Together it means 'true grey ones.' Tal-Vashoth are more violent and care little about life other than their own. If you are seeking a cure for boredom, ridding the coast of Tal-Vashoth is a worthy task."

She pushed back her chair and stood, retrieving her sword from the table. "Alright then," Hawke began. "Let's go kill some Qunari."

"Tal-Vashoth," Fenris corrected her.

She rolled her eyes. "What made you the expert on them anyway?"

"A story for another time, Hawke," he replied as he also stood.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Before they headed out to the coast, Hawke dragged Anders from his clinic. If they were going to face a bunch of crazed killers, she thought a healer might be a good idea. Anders, as always, agreed to whatever Hawke asked of him. She had a sneaking suspicion the mage was interested in her, though she pretended she didn't notice. He was handsome enough, she supposed, but he was too... soft. As far as using that interest to her advantage, though, Hawke had no problem with that. Free healing whenever she wanted it? Who would complain?

They'd barely set their feet on the path that ran along the cliffs of the Wounded Coast, when the first spear came flying through the air to land at Hawke's feet. Of course that immediately set her blood to boiling, in a way that she loved more than anything.

They left a trail of dead Tal-Vashoth in their wake, and Hawke was feeling very cheery when a voice echoed from ahead.

"Be warned human..." was all she caught.

"Meh," said Varric. "I don't even bother to pull Bianca out for every threat anymore."

After a really bizarre conversation with a single Tal-Vashoth, during which he also claimed he wasn't one, and then proceeded to warn them of the danger posed by his own kind on the path ahead, Hawke felt more confused about the nature of these grey giants than ever.

Up the cliffs they went, on a twisted path to a cave entrance, where they faced the worst of the lot so far. It was at this point that she was extraordinarily glad she'd brought the healer along, because they were outnumbered at least four to one.

Once in the caverns, the odds didn't change, and if fact perhaps grew worse. Yet Hawke found they were more than adequate to the task. This is what she had wanted, had been craving. The need for action, the thrill of adventure, and the adrenaline rush of the kill.

"You know, these guys don't smell so good when they're dead," quipped Varric as he wiped some blood off his boot.

Finally they came to an expansive cavern deep underground, where it looked like the Tal-Vashoth had set-up a sort of camp. Platforms had been built, and boxes littered with supplies were scattered around the cave. Varric ran up a set of rickety wooden steps for a better vantage, then pulled up short when he got a look at what was waiting for him at the top.

"We've got a live one up here!" he shouted down to the others. Andraste's flaming ass, he hated these Qunari mages with their shorn horns, sewn lips and chained collars. And now the thing was glowing! Varric retreated several paces just as Fenris rushed past him. Leaving it to the broody elf, Varric lifted Bianca to his shoulder and sent a volley of arrows raining down on the largest group of Tal-Vashoth below him.

It was the hardest fight yet, and when it was finally over, Varric muttered to Hawke as they exited the cavern, "I'm going to kick Javaris' ass to the Deep Roads and back."

Hawke laughed. "Not if I get to him first."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Once they actually entered the Qunari Compound, all thoughts of Javaris and ass-kicking fled from Hawke's mind at the sight of the tall, proud giants casually lounging in their makeshift home. She hardly heard the weasely dwarfs' words as he called for the Arishok, so entranced was she by these warriors. It mattered not that they appeared to be at their ease, her own warrior's blood knew exactly just how ready they were to respond to any threat.

It was then that _he_ walked in. Immediately she was struck by his inhuman grace; not one ounce of energy was wasted as he strode to the long bench and took his seat. The leather thong of his armor swayed between his thighs, capturing her attention so deeply she found it impossible to look away for what seemed an eternity. Eventually she managed to lift her head, her eyes meeting his, and she studied the Arishok's strong features as if in a trance.

Hawke was familiar with Qunari, having seen one back in Lothering and then several in her travels, but this man... His very presence demanded respect, and those that he led visibly gave it to him. Idle movements ceased, postures straightened, and all eyes now focused on her group, ready to protect him with their lives. Hawke was certain her band of misfits didn't have that loyalty, that fierce determination in their eyes for her, and she envied him.

To Hawke's surprise, Fenris stepped forward and spoke to the Arishok first. "Arishokost. Maaras shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." _Peace, Arishok. There's nothing to struggle against. Victory is in the Qun._

"The Qun from an elf?" the Arishok replied, his low baritone rumbling through the compound. "The madness of this... place."

Hawke felt her body tremble at the sound of his voice. It wasn't from fear, however. Fascination of the stunning beauty of the beast that stood before her was one thing, but when he spoke? Her mind immediately imagined him whispering in her ear, telling her all sorts of naughty things. Why had her imagination gone there? She had no love for the Qunari, avoided them in fact, and yet here she was not only admiring the burgundy tint of his horns, but the curves of his chiseled painted chest and the raspy way he had replied to Fenris.

 _Maker's breath get a grip on yourself!_ "Tell me that helped?" she asked Fenris, hoping he would pull her away from the impure thoughts racing through her mind.

"We shall see," came the elf's uncertain response.

Javaris spoke next, going on about some deal he had made with the Arishok, but Hawke paid little attention. The furrow of his brow, the way his lips curled slightly downward, the sun reflecting off his skin... Hawke literally shook her head to chase these thoughts away. What was it about this man that enthralled her so?

Whatever conversation she had missed, Javaris was now staring at Hawke. "He's not getting it, make your chatty elf say something."

His words snapped Hawke back into reality from the perverted fantasies she'd been creating in her mind, and she turned to Fenris, a question in her eyes.

"Qunari do not abandon a debt," Fenris told her, before he turned back to the Qunari leader. "I humbly request clarification from the Arishok."

Hawke thought she could hear surprise in the Arishok's words as he said, "I have a growing lack of disgust for you." Yet his next words were clipped, almost business-like. "The dwarf imagined the deal for the Gatlock. He invented a task to prove his worth, when he has none."

Fenris bowed his head slightly. "Then we have wrongly inserted ourselves in your affairs." He looked up then, and in a rather eager voice, to Hawke's ears anyway, asked, "Would you have us kill this dwarf?"

Javaris spoke up quickly. "Wait. What now?"

The Arishok ignored the dwarf, and spoke again, directly to Hawke. "If you faced Tal-Vashoth, he is not worthy of dying to you, as he was not worthy of dying to them." The leader of the Qunari paused and seemed to consider her for a long moment. "But you - you keep good company. Let him live, and leave."

Both the Qunari and Hawke's group watched as Javaris exited the compound, muttering insults under his breath. She watched him go, but her feet would not follow. She had no desire to leave the company of the Arishok, at least not yet. Had she even said a word to him? Trying to recall what had just happened, she realized she hadn't, and that was something that needed to be rectified.

He noticed her hesitation, and the Arishok leaned forward slightly, his leather armor creaking with the movement. The very fact that this human, this bas, had defeated the Tal-Vashoth, and kept company with an elf that spoke the Qun, intrigued him. For one so small to have accomplished such a feat was... impressive. That she appeared to be expecting gold for her actions however, annoyed him. Was she waiting for a reward of some kind? Typical. "You will go as well, _human_. There's no more coin for you here."

"And if I prefer to stay and a chat a while?" Hawke asked, without forethought. "What then?"

Dark eyes narrowed in on her. This one would challenge him? The Arishok breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent, which was distinctly different from the others. She smelled of... desire, where from the others, there was only wariness and fear. If he were to smile, he would've done so now. Instead he turned to Karasaad that stood next to him. "Imakari dathrasi himrasaa."

The Karasaad began to laugh, and the Arishok joined him, as they were both now staring at her. Hawke shifted uncomfortably, and whispered to Fenris with gritted teeth, refusing to move her lips. "What did he say?"

"We should leave, Hawke," Fenris quickly responded.

Anders spoke up from behind them. "I hate to admit it, but I agree with Fenris. Let's go Hawke."

She refused to listen to either one of them, however. Hawke stood her ground, staring up at the Arishok seated at the top of the stairs. She opened her mouth to say something, what she wasn't quite sure, but he spoke before she was able to come up with anything.

"Why do you bother me human?" his gruff voice was directed towards her. "I hire no blades and need no goods." With a wave of his hand, he had expected her to dismiss herself, as any good trained soldier under his command would've done. When she made no move, he continued. "Your kind thinks selfishness and want are normal. This city, all of it, leaves a bad taste."

Hawke folded her arms across her chest. "You despise this city? And yet you are still here. What does that say about you?" She heard an audible groan from Fenris; clearly he did not approve of her questions.

The rumble from Fenris was nothing compared to the Arishok's. "Since we have arrived I have seen nothing but greed and weakness. There is no order here, no goal for a common purpose. But I do not expect the likes of you to understand."

"The likes of me?" Hawke repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"You are one of the few I have met with any ability," the Arishok admitted. "And yet this too was random, a result of selfishness. You note that we remain, yet I wonder how you can also remain, in the midst of this filth and chaos."

She laughed, unconsciously tossing her hair back with a swift gesture of her hand. "Oh I agree with you, this city is a mess."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "But you don't see this as a problem," he said, more a statement than a question.

"It's an opportunity I take advantage of," Hawke responded honestly.

To her surprise the Arishok stood, and walked a few paces closer to them. Hawke lifted her head to look up at him as he towered over them. His expression was clear; he did not approve of her answer. "Karasten are soldiers," he began, gesturing toward the men who stood guard on the steps. "The Qun made it so. They can never vary from that assigned path, never be other than what they are meant to be. But they are free to choose within that role. To accept and succeed or deny and die. Glory is clear and defined."

He continued down the stairs until he stood within inches of her. Hawke could smell the leather he wore, feel the dominance he projected, and her knees suddenly became weak as his eyes bore down on her. "What _full advantage_ can you take without authority?" The Arishok questioned her. "You acknowledge this city's lack of order, yet are content to do nothing about it."

Hawke shifted her weight uncomfortably, but stood her ground. She knew instinctively that to show weakness in this moment would not be wise. "So your soldiers are free to accept their way of life and succeed, or deny it and die? I accept my way of life, Arishok, but I also recognize my limitations within that life."

"Which is why you fail as a species," he replied. "There are no limits within the roles we are assigned, no uncertainty, no doubt. It is the way of the Qun, and your city, while I remain stuck here, may demand that certainty."

She swallowed hard, fighting the waves of intrigue and desire that consumed her at being in such close proximity to him. The thought of him wishing to claim dominance over Kirkwall was worrying. It was hard to focus on, however, when the thought of him claiming that same dominance over her, personally, was so very intriguing. Licking her dry lips, Hawke replied, "I don't think Kirkwall would do very well under military rule."

The Arishok considered her for another moment before turning his back and returning to the large bench where he sat. "The rule of the Qun is not military. It is discipline and order." He sighed. "But I am no more equipped to explain than you are to understand. I suspect we are done, human."

Hawke did not appreciate being dismissed, and was about to inform the Arishok of that fact, but Fenris latched on to her elbow. "Let us go Hawke," he warned under his breath. "We have disturbed him enough for one day."

Reluctantly she listened to him, exiting the compound with one final glance back at the Arishok. He was still staring at her intently, and if she wasn't mistaken, with a bit of curiosity.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

After the gates to the compound had shut with a loud clank behind them, Hawke stopped and turned to Fenris. "What did he say that had them laughing at me?" she demanded the explanation now.

Fenris did not look at her when he responded. "He said your scent was that of a young female animal in their first heat."

She wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but the blush on the elf's face surprised her. Hawke didn't think Fenris was capable of being embarrassed by anything. "I suppose with your Qunari experience you know exactly what he was referring to?"

Fenris looked down at his feet, lifting one as if to inspect it and then performed the same action with the other. "Qunari sense of smell is strong. If I am wrong, forgive me, but if your body desires him, he is well aware."

Anders laughed boisterously. "Good job Hawke, next time just lift your tail and spray on his steps! I wouldn't suggest any loud mewling though, unless you wish the Qunari to fight over you. Could be fun?"

Hawke narrowed her eyes at him. "Very funny Anders, ha ha," she said angrily. Was it that obvious that she was instantly attracted to the Arishok? Fenris wasn't wrong, she felt her entire body respond to the man the second she laid eyes on him. As they walked up the stone stairway to Lowtown, she swore to herself she'd avoid the Arishok from now on - and she was very good at keeping promises to herself.

Yet, if she'd known just how soon events would throw them together again, her confidence would have been sorely shaken.


	2. The Unbidden Rescue

**Chapter Title: The Unbidden Rescue**  
Written by: Wintryone, Lucien Grey,  & FenZev  
Beta'd by: Erana  
Chapter Summary: Despite her best efforts, Hawke finds herself involved in Qunari affairs again when the Viscount's son goes missing. 

* * *

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


So far, Hawke had managed to keep her promise to herself, and stay away from the Qunari compound. She had not, however, been as successful at keeping the Arishok out of her thoughts. Or her dreams. Nor had she been able to avoid the constant teasing from Anders. The annoying mage was always sneaking up behind her and groaning in her ear in imitation of, well - she didn't want to think about it. It did cause her to leave Anders behind more and more, and bring her sister on their frequent adventures to raise coin. Bethany was more than compliant, and had happily been improving her healing abilities.

Fortunately, planning for the Deep Roads expedition was keeping her plenty busy, and the work available in Kirkwall seemed to be growing exponentially. Even the Templars seemed to be willing to part with their coin. Both Cullen and Thrask had paid her well for services rendered, even if those services had not been to her liking. In fact, most of the work she'd found in Kirkwall had been distasteful, to say the least. Yet, when she'd seen the advert in the Hightown Market that the office of the Viscount was hiring, her only thought was that the gold would likely be exceptionally good. She'd torn the poster off the wall, and headed for the Keep.

Hawke wasn't sure which she hated more, the politics of Kirkwall or her desperation for coin. Her mother had tried desperately, yet with no luck, to schedule a meeting with the Seneschal, or the Viscount, and she'd been turned away at the doors numerous times. Now that the Viscount's son was in trouble, the Seneschal was practically talking to anyone who would listen. It annoyed her, and after nearly being knocked down the stairs by some Nevarran woman and her entourage, the Seneschal's cross-armed posture when she spoke to him didn't help stifle that annoyance.

She was surprised to learn Saemus may have been taken by the Qunari. Of course Bran didn't say so outright, only hinted that the boy was missing and the Qunari were sighted. He also suggested that the Arishok had already been notified of the matter, but wouldn't admit it. Word games, fear of political consequence, it was enough to make Hawke's head spin. If the boy's life was indeed in danger, why all the games? You'd think a father would do anything within his power to save his child, and the Viscount certainly had power. Instead they tip-toed around appearances.

Politics aside, the reward was decent, so Hawke accepted the job much to Varric's delight. Bran made it known, almost too easily, that the Nevarran mercenaries were going to search the Wounded Coast for Saemus. Hawke didn't mind giving them a head start; she could always intercept them on the way back to Kirkwall. Before she found herself caught in the middle of some war between the Viscount and the Qunari, she wanted to see for herself if there was any truth in what the Seneschal had told her.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

By the time she arrived at the docks, Hawke's mood was still foul. Even though her interactions with the Arishok to date had been brief, she knew all too well that she must compose herself before entering the compound. To spit and snarl at the leader of the Qunari would not be wise. It might even be suicidal.

Yet, she was determined to find out whatever information the Arishok had concerning the Viscount's son. She also believed there was a certain code of honor in bringing what she'd discovered at the Keep to the Arishok. It went against her very nature to play the kind of games Bran apparently liked to play.

Today, she'd brought Fenris, Varric and her sister, Bethany with her. Of all the companions she'd gathered to herself since leaving the Red Iron, these three she found the most satisfying to work with. Even though Bethany was too nice sometimes, and Varric's constant sarcastic chatter could be annoying, she enjoyed a certain level of trust with them she could not find with the others.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the compound, she turned to Fenris.

"So, should I be doing this?" she asked the elf suddenly doubting herself.

"It is a risk," Fenris said, "but I believe one worth taking."

"How so?" His opinion carried some weight with her, because of his greater knowledge of the Qun, of course.

"He will either kill you outright, or be impressed with your honesty," said Fenris. "If you impress him, that would of course be to your advantage in the future."

Hawke nodded. "Well, he can try to kill me, anyway," she said grimly.

Fenris' soft chuckle surprised her. "Very true."

"All right, let's do this thing," she said and marched up the stairs.

Once they'd been admitted by the guard at the gates, Hawke heard her sister softly whisper, "Oh my," from behind her.

"It's okay Bethany, they look mean, but they don't bite," she said in an aside.

"Are you sure about that, sister?" asked Bethany, her voice filled with awe.

"So far, anyway," Hawke replied, and then turned to the Qunari leader. "My apologies for intruding Arishok." She made sure that her voice carried none of the inner turmoil that arose from seeing him again. "I wonder if you might have a moment for a few questions?"

The Arishok uttered a disinterested growl. "It appears all you do is ask questions. Have you no answers of your own?"

Hawke smiled at this, knowing it was probably not the appropriate thing to do, but she did so anyway. "If I had the answers to these questions I wouldn't be here, now would I?"

" _Hawke_ ," Fenris warned with a stern tone.

She released a frustrated sigh. "Fine," she said under her breath to Fenris. To the Arishok she offered, "I apologize Arishok, forgive me. It would only require a minute of your time."

The Arishok leaned forward and stared intently at her. "Ask."

_Dear Maker why does he have to be all grunty like that?_ Clearing her throat, Hawke took a step forward and informed the Arishok why she was there. "The Viscount's son, Saemus, has recently gone missing. Rumor has it he may have been taken by Qunari."

She stood, waiting for an answer, and after several breaths the Arishok responded. "Careful human, your question sounds more like an accusation."

The threatening tone in his voice shook her for a moment, but Hawke recovered quickly with a sly grin. "You misunderstand Arishok," she said. "I only wished to inform you that this is what those in the Viscount's office believe, and thus you should be wary of them."

Hawke was certain she heard him grunt, and then the Arishok stood. He walked from one side of the landing to the other, a clawed hand stroking his chin, and then stopped when he reached the center of his bench. "Interesting that you believe I care what your Viscount thinks." He descended the stairs, as he had done before, standing close enough to tower over her. "Tell me human, are you here for an answer or a reaction?"

She resisted the urge to swallow before answering. She hadn't realized it before, but both times now that she'd spoken to the Arishok, it was almost as if her friends weren't there beside her. Why was it that this man, this beast, this powerful creature, consumed her entire world whenever she was mere inches from him? "Both?"

"Are you looking into this matter personally?" the Arishok asked.

Hawke nodded, her dry mouth suddenly unable to respond upon feeling his warm breath on her skin. Yet, she thought she may have heard an underlying tone of... what? _Approval_ in his question?

"Pity you waste your time here then, seeking answers and reactions," he said, before turning his back on her to return to his bench.

The Arishok was dismissing her. And when Hawke realized this, her blood began to boil in anger. Dismissing her? After she had come to do him the favor of letting him know what the Viscount and Seneschal were thinking? Quickly she found her voice again and was about to use it until a gentle nudge from Varric changed her mind.

"Um, Hawke?" the dwarf muttered under his breath. "Ixnay on provoking the giant oxman."

She sighed, clearly agitated that Varric was right, and also not happy with the fact that the Arishok would win this battle. One battle, she thought to herself, not the war. "You're right Arishok, of course," Hawke said through gritted teeth. "We'll just be on our way."

As they were about to exit the compound, the Arishok called to them. "One more thing, _human_."

Hawke turned to acknowledge him, though she did nothing to hide her scowling expression. "Yes Arishok?" she asked with a sarcastic bow. When she corrected her posture, she thought she saw him smirk.

"Tell your Viscount Qunari do not take kindly to rumors."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

After her conversation with the Arishok, Hawke considered that Seneschal Bran was extremely lucky his head was still attached to his neck. She may not understand the Qun very well, but she understood what a manipulative weasel the Viscount's right hand was.

"Pompous ass," muttered Hawke as she, Varric, Fenris and Bethany made their way along the cliffs of the Wounded Coast, searching for the Viscounts son, Saemus.

Varric laughed from behind her. "The Seneschal or the Arishok?"

"We can start with the Seneschal," she stated.

"Bran is like all good politicians, Hawke," Varric said conversationally.

"How's that, Varric?" she asked, though without much interest. Between that bitch Ginnis, with her ' _Get out of my bloody way,'_ and Bran's condescending ' _If you'd like to try your hand...'_

"Slippery and slimy like all snakes," Varric said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Snakes are not slimy," said Fenris, sounding bored.

"And you know this, how exactly?" asked Varric.

"Just stop!" Hawke said from between clenched teeth. "You'll have the Winters, and every other bandit on the coast on us with your inane chattering." To make herself feel better she drew her sword and quickened her pace.

When they finally found Saemus, the Qunari who'd been with him was dead, and he was snarling at Ginnis. "Ashaad... you killed him! You... you vashedan bitch."

Things sort of went downhill from there, or uphill, depending on if you like a fight where you're outnumbered ten to one - and Hawke did.

The first thing she did was take down Ginnis, with the help of a well-placed freeze spell from her sister. For the next hour, they fought wave after wave of the mercenary Winters, while in between she tried to keep Saemus calm. The boy, because that's how she thought of him now - he simpered and cowered from just seeing a little blood - was no help at all, and she worried he'd get himself killed without even being in the fight.

When they'd finally dispatched the last round of mercenaries, the others began to sort through the weapons and possessions, searching for anything that might be sellable. She knew this task was distasteful to her sister, especially from all the little squeaks and groans that Bethany made as she did so.

Hawke walked up to Saemus. "You're all right?" she asked succinctly.

"Thanks to you, Serah, yes," he replied, and he gazed around at the bloody, mangled corpses with a look of disgust on his handsome face.

"I admit I have no idea what the proper way is to deal with a dead Qunari," she told him.

"The body is no longer him, and is worthy of no special treatment," said Saemus sadly. "That is apparently, their way."

"You and this... Ashaad," said Hawke. "You were friends?"

"I don't know if that's the right word," he replied. "I am the Viscount's son, bound by everything that means. Ashaad... did not care. We were both seeking something. It was enough."

Hawke thought back to her recent encounter with the Arishok and her not-so-welcome reception. Was that how her own thinking was off? Was it more that the Qunari accepted what was, without the usual sort of ingratiating that she found in the other races? Yet, Ginnis had implied there was something more between Saemus and this _Ashaad_. Considering her own reaction to the Arishok, Hawke found she had to ask. "Saemus, was there... something... _special_ between you and Ashaad?"

Finally, a demeanor worthy of the Viscount's son appeared on Saemus' handsome face. "Keep your assumptions," he said. "Take me back to my father."

After that little awkward exchange, Saemus seemed to prefer to walk between Bethany and Fenris, while Hawke and Varric followed.

"Well, that went well," said Varric sarcastically as they began the long trudge back to Kirkwall.

"You think so?" asked Hawke.

"Actually, no," replied Varric. "Step carefully, Hawke. I'm beginning to wonder if your interest in the Qunari is... healthy."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

The Karasten entered the compound later that night after returning from the Wounded Coast. He approached the hovel where the Arishok had retired for the evening and stood at attention, awaiting permission to speak.

The hovel itself held little in the way of comfort, for the Qunari required only the basics to survive. The Arishok's armor lay in one corner with his giant battleaxe beside it. A bedroll, table, small chest and single chair were the only other items in the space. The Arishok was seated at the table reading a water-worn tome, when the infantry commander presented himself to provide news from his mission.

"Yes," the Arishok spoke the word without looking up from his reading.

His Karasten began his report. "The Ashaad you had sent to map the coast is dead."

This news gave the Arishok pause, and he looked up at his subordinate with interest. "The human?"

The Karasten shook his head. "Not by her hand. A group of mercenaries in search of the boy, who pleaded with the human to take revenge for Ashaad's death."

The Arishok had not anticipated this. "And did she?"

"She and her companions eliminated the mercenary leader and three dozen of her men," the Karasten concluded.

"Interesting," the Arishok said before closing the book he was reading. "What of the boy?"

"Returned to the Keep, escorted by the human. I believe he was seeking a path to viddathari through the Ashaad."

A nod by the Arishok let the Karasten know he was dismissed. The Arishok retrieved his axe and walked out into the compound, holding the axe against his bare-chested shoulder. He began to pace the large square as he thought on this latest report.

The Viscounts son seeking conversion to the Qun had its advantages. There was very little the Viscount could do if that was the boy's wish; he would be protected under all laws of the Qun. If something were to happen to the Viscount, and the boy was chosen to lead Kirkwall, by Qunari rite and custom Kirkwall would then belong to the Qun. This was worth considering.

The human was a conundrum the Arishok had yet to figure out. This warrior, unlike most humans he encountered other than viddathari, seemed to have _ability_. In fact, he knew of no viddathari that could take down an entire mercenary band. The Arishok had seen the filth of this city and others, such as in Rivain, but none had ever been so bold. No one had ever dared to challenge him, and never had he caught the quickening pulse of a female's heat who was not of his own race.

If he was unfortunate enough to remain in this city, he decided both the Viscount's son and the human were worth further study. For now though his priorities were clear; find the missing artifact so he and his people could return to Par Vollen. Only if unsuccessful would he consider using both the boy and the human to help re-educate Kirkwall.


	3. Shepherding Wolves

**Chapter Title: Shepherding Wolves**  
 **Written by: Lucien Grey, FenZev, & Wintryone**  
 **Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Hawke learns how the Qunari treat their mages, and searches for a better understanding of why.**

* * *

Hawke sat on the stairs outside her Uncle's house, deep in thought. It felt as if fate was conspiring against her. Lately, it seemed every job she procured to raise coin for the Deep Roads expedition had brought her to the docks. How many times had she passed the Qunari compound these last few weeks? How many times had she fought the urge to push through the gates just for a glimpse of _him?_ She'd never felt this way before. Never been obsessed in her thoughts or feelings as she was for the Arishok.

The first job had been for that strange lady in the Hanged Man who asked her to investigate a _secret meeting_ down at the docks. It turned out that someone in the city's power structure was paying raiders to target Amaranthine ships. Hawke's stomach squirmed as she thought of how this was just more confirmation of the Arishok's opinion of Kirkwall. Greed, corruption, want - those had been his words. As each day passed, she found herself agreeing with him more and more.

Then there had been that blood mage Leech, the leader of a group called the Redwater Teeth. He had been trying to take over the docks for months. Hawke had to admit, it had been more than satisfying to run her blade through the man's guts.

Blood mages! Maker, it seemed everywhere she went she found corruption, and everyone she encountered were all giving into to their baser natures. It reminded Hawke of what her father had always told Bethany. "Magic should serve what is best in you, not that which is most base." At least her sister had lived up to that promise, unlike most of the mages she had met in Kirkwall.

Gamlen's door creaked open behind her. "Sister?" Bethany called.

Uh oh. She'd known this was coming. Bethany had been studying her with a worried frown for weeks.

"Right here," Hawke replied without much enthusiasm.

Bethany lowered herself to sit next to Hawke and reached for her hand. "I'm worried about you, sister."

Hawke tried to brush it off. "No need to worry," she said and gave Bethany's hand a squeeze. "You know me, tough as nails."

"You're flesh and bone like the rest of us," Bethany argued. "I've seen the way you pause every time we pass the Qunari compound. And I've heard you call out his name while you're dreaming."

"His n-name?" Hawke stammered, and immediately could have kicked herself for it. Bethany was such a mother hen, much more so than Leandra. Hawke knew her apparent uncertainty would just increase her sister's worry.

"Don't play dumb," Bethany said. "The Arishok. You call out to him in your sleep."

Hawke managed a weak laugh. "Maybe I'm dreaming about fighting him," she said. "You know how I love a challenge."

"Sister," Bethany chided. "Please don't play games. I'm worried about this... obsession of yours."

"I am not obsessed," Hawke stated firmly. "It's just that he is... so very interesting."

"He's dangerous," Bethany countered. "The Qunari don't have normal feelings like you and me. They don't even get upset when one of their friends die!"

It was true, the Arishok had accepted Ashaad's death without a qualm. He'd been more worried about retrieving the Qunari's weapon than that he'd been killed.

"Look, all I'm saying," Bethany continued, "is that you might as well fall in love with a statue. He'll never return your feelings."

"Who said anything about feelings?" Hawke replied indignantly. "You're assuming a lot, sister."

Bethany's laughter held no mirth. "That's right, keep fooling yourself," she said. "But you aren't fooling me."

"Just leave it alone," Hawke replied.

"Sister," Bethany implored. "I know Father trained you to be my defender. And I know that after you got back from Ostagar..."

 _"Leave it!"_ Hawke hissed between gritted teeth.

Hawke heard the trembling in Bethany's voice that always meant she was on the verge of tears. "You may be able to take down a man twice your size, but you still have a heart." Bethany said. "And hearts can be broken."

Hawke didn't reply; she simply got up and walked out into the Lowtown night, hoping to find someone to fight. After all her sister's talk about love and broken hearts, she really wanted to kill something.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

From the look of the street thugs accosting the woman in the Chantry robes, Hawke was going to get her wish. She didn't stop to think that she was alone, and that the fight would be easily ten against one, she only drew her sword and followed them into the alley.

Daft woman putting herself in such a position.

Of course, the red-haired leader of the gang was none too happy with Hawke's interruption. He took one look at her longsword and called on to his fellows to bring her down.

 _Let them try,_ she thought, and rushed the group, her blade swinging.

Hawke held her own, but she was definitely taking some damage, mostly because she was so outnumbered. The Chantry woman was no help at all, cowering against the wall like a frightened child. What was wrong with the people of this city? None of them seemed to have a lick of sense. Of course, some might have said the same of her, jumping into a fight solo against so many.

A sharp stinging pain exploded in Hawke's shoulder, and suddenly her sword arm went numb. Before it could fall to the ground, however, she grabbed it with her left hand and turned on her attacker. Briefly she wondered if she actually would meet her end here in this dingy alley, alone and in defense of a stranger. She smiled grimly and kept on, determination written in every line of her face.

It was just about then that fireballs began to rain all around her, followed soon thereafter by a hail of arrows falling from the sky. Apparently, reinforcements had arrived, because the next thing she noticed was a tingling warmth in her shoulder as a healing spell washed over it, followed by Fenris' roar as he joined her in the skirmish.

Only minutes later, all of the thugs lay dead, littered across the grimy stone of the alley.

Bethany, Fenris, Varric and Anders. She might have known her sister would follow her when she stalked off.

Varric chuckled. "You should have seen it, Hawke," he said. "Sunshine came running into the Hanged Man shouting for help, and I swear it was all we could do to keep every man in the place from following us out here."

Hawke had no time to reply, however, because the Chantry woman approached them and began to speak.

From the first, Hawke found the woman offensive with her snide and condescending way of speaking. Someone of bloody skill? Andraste's ass, who talked that way? Apparently Sister Petrice thought everyone in Lowtown was violent and ignorant.

Hawke had been about to walk away without a word, when the Sister called out. "Ser Varnell!" And a man dressed in a Templar uniform appeared from the shadows.

"A Templar?" Bethany whispered from behind her. "Is this a set-up?"

The Templar approached them, his blade raised and ready for a fight.

"Drop it or lose the hand," Hawke told him as she felt her temper rise. She'd spent most of her life keeping her sister safe from men just like him, and she almost hoped he'd give her a reason to follow through on her threat.

He did, however, back down at a word from Petrice, and what followed was a very vague job offer. Hawke thought of the bag of coin stashed under a floorboard at Gamlen's house. She didn't like this woman, or her Templar dog, but as Varric liked to say, coin is coin.

Varric, however, surprised Hawke and begged off, mumbling something about an interrupted game of Wicked Grace, and returned to the Hanged Man. Sodding dwarf.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Hawke had been surprised when the Chantry sister's "safe house" had been right across the courtyard from Gamlen's house. Petrice had wasted no time once they'd entered the door. Blah, blah blah. This Chantry woman apparently loved to hear herself talk. Yet when she finally brought out her 'charge' everyone fell silent except for Fenris.

"A Saarebas? Here?" asked the elf incredulously.

Hawke had never seen anything like the Qunari mage. With his sewn lips and his shorn horns, it looked as if he'd been tortured. At first she thought the Templar had done this to him, which wouldn't have surprised her at all. She thought of the angry red starburst on the foreheads of so many mages in the Gallows, and again, her temper nearly got the better of her. However, she soon learned that it was the Qunari who treated all their mages this way, and according to Petrice, she only wanted to help him gain his freedom. It seemed almost a contradiction to Hawke, considering that the Sister had already stated she considered the Qunari to be an 'open challenge' to the city.

Hawke felt uneasy about the whole situation. She turned to the others and asked, "Opinions?"

"You risk the Arishok's ire interfering in this way, Hawke," said Fenris.

"We must help this poor creature! He has faced much worse that what I run from," Bethany said.

Hawke was surprised that Anders had remained strangely quiet throughout the odd exchange.

Bethany's concern was probably what convinced Hawke to take the job escorting the Saarebas through the undercity, and hopefully to his freedom. She wanted answers, though, and with his lips sewn shut, she wouldn't be getting them from this Qunari.

Descending the steps to the underground tunnels, Fenris felt it necessary to warn Hawke again about involving herself with the Qunari. "I am concerned Hawke," he began. "I do not think you understand the consequences of involving yourself in their affairs."

"Look at him Fenris," Hawke stated, gesturing toward Ketojan. "Is that any way to treat someone?"

"It is their way," Fenris reminded her. "You should not judge them anymore than you wish to be judged."

Hawke stifled a laugh. "Are you saying this because you respect the Qunari and their ways? Or because he's a mage, and you agree with sewing their lips shut and collaring them?"

"Can you tell me what stories you have heard of Qunari blood mages?" Fenris countered.

She couldn't, but that didn't mean he was right, or that she was going to tell him as much. "Maybe I am naive to their ways, but it still seems a bit barbaric to me. Though there are times I wish Bethany's mouth was sewn shut, it has only ever been in jest."

"I heard that," Bethany chided from behind the two of them.

"Funny, the mage doesn't seem to think you're in heat Hawke," Anders commented. "Why no attraction to this Ketojan? Got a thing against mages of all races?"

"Anders," Bethany scolded. "That wasn't very nice."

Hawke ignored the comment, not wishing to relive that embarrassing moment.

Anders placed his arm around Bethany. "That's alright," he continued when Hawke said nothing. "I know your sister wants me. One out of two Hawke's isn't bad."

Bethany took a swift step forward to remove Anders' arm. "Ugh. You're repulsive."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself to keep from tearing my robes off," Anders replied.

"Will you two shut up," Hawke groused.

"You are the one who insists on bringing the abomination with us," Fenris reminded her as they continued on. "Knowing how the Qunari feel about mages, perhaps bringing two was not the wisest choice."

Hawke sighed in frustration. "I wasn't aware I had a choice, seeing as Varric bailed on us for a game of cards. And as for your earlier comments about me involving myself with the Qunari, while I appreciate the concern, it is still my decision to make."

"Involving yourself in the affairs of the Qunari is one thing Hawke," Fenris said. "But if you continue to taunt the Arishok as you have been, you risk more trouble than you realize."

Stopping to search a barrell for hidden treasure, Hawke tried to drop the conversation for now. "We have the entire expedition ahead of us for you to tell me what you know of the Qunari. Maybe then I'll have a different opinion."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Hawke cursed Varric under her breath as they missed yet another trap, and sickly green fumes of poison began to rise from the floor. So far they'd taken more damage from their lack of a rogue than they had from the various spiders and other nasties that made their home beneath Kirkwall. Ketojan simply stood and watched as they fought their way through the twisted tunnels.

"The mage seems indifferent to our struggles," remarked Fenris, "even with his freedom as the prize."

No joke.

Hawke was almost glad when the undercity thugs challenged them, because it gave her a place to vent her bad mood.

"What have we got here? Collared like a dog-lord's bitch," snarled the leader of the gang.

"Uh, maybe we should let them pass," said another, eyeing Ketojan with obvious trepidation.

"Almost too late for that," Hawke replied angrily.

The leader, in his infinite wisdom, must have thought pulling a knife on Hawke a good strategy, but with seconds, all was chaos as Ketojan finally reacted. A blast of fire erupted, and seconds later, the man lay dead on the ground.

"Kill them! Kill them all!" shouted the red-haired thug.

That didn't work out for him.

Once all the thugs were dead, Hawke attempted to find out from Ketojan why he had suddenly tried to help them, but to no avail.

"I know that kind of blind loyalty," said Fenris. "It's hard to judge how much control he has."

"I don't know how the Sister can think she understands his wishes," added Bethany.

"No more outbursts," Hawke told the Qunari mage finally, when all they'd received in answer were a series of garbled grunts. When only more grunts followed, Hawke said, "That better mean yes," before stalking off toward the exit.

The were greeted by soft morning sunlight as they finally left the underground and found themselves somewhere along the Wounded Coast, though Hawke couldn't quite get her bearings. They were also greeted by a full squad of Qunari, and for a moment she was captivated by the sight of so many strong and beautiful grey-skinned warriors.

Until they approached, and the leader of the group said, "You will hold basra-vashedan. I am Arvaarad, and I claim possession of Saarebas at your heel." He took another step forward. "The members of his Karataam were killed by Tal-Vashoth, but their disposal leads only here, to Saarebas and to you."

"Careful with your accusations," Hawke said. "I didn't kill this mage's... Karataam."

"What did he call her?" Bethany whispered to Fenris.

"It roughly translates as _piece of shit_ ," Fenris replied smoothly.

Arvaarad was still speaking. "Tal-vashoth killed them, that battle was expected. The survival of Saarebas without his Arvaarad was not. I do not know how you come to hold his leash, but you have no claim in the Qun," Arvaarad said with disdain. "He will be returned and this crime cleansed."

"And if he doesn't want to go back?" Hawke asked.

"I've been to the compound," said Anders. "I certainly wouldn't want to go back there."

"They look at you like you might be their next meal," Bethany agreed.

"I do not believe they are cannibals," remarked Fenris. "Though I suppose it is possible."

Arvaarad moved to stand before Ketojan. "Saarebas! Show that your will remains bound to the Qun."

After all they'd been through that night, Hawke was hardly surprised when Ketojan dropped to one knee and let forth more garbled nonsense from between his sewn lips, but she heard the low, protesting grunt of Anders from behind her.

"He has only followed you because he wants to be led," stated Arvaarad. "He is allowed no other purpose."

"I've met with your leader," Hawke said. "Perhaps the Arishok would not wish you to challenge a potential ally in this way."

"She's crossing the line, there," said Fenris.

"Personally, I think Hawke's aiming to be a little bit more than an ally," Anders said with a snicker. "Ouch! Little wench, you pinched me!"

"You deserved it," replied Bethany, sticking her nose into the air.

"Claiming to know the will of the Arishok with Saarebas in your care is _maraas imekari_ , a child bleating without meaning," Arvaarad said derisively. "The Arishok knows what is to be done with Saarebas who lose their Arvaarad. There is no greater threat to their control."

"The Sister called him Ketojan," Hawke said as calmly as she could manage. She looked down at the mage and asked him, "You are Saarebas?"

Yet again it was Arvaarad who answered. "Saarebas is his role and his name, as you understand it. It is the accusation and acknowledgment of being a mage."

Okay then, she'd play the game. "And you are Arvaarad?" she asked him.

"My role is to hold the leash, and hunt the Grey Ones who leave the Qun." He paused before adding. "Or _bas_ who have not yet been enlightened."

"You don't care that someone is abusing your dead to get you here?" she asked incredulously.

"It is my role to secure Saarebas," Arvaarad said with decreasing patience. "It is the role of another to purge the perversions of your kind."

Hawke had had just about enough. "He is bound and abused, and you want him caged." She took a breath to rein in her temper. "Why?"

"The power that he has, that all Saarebas have, draws from chaos and from demons. They can never be in control."

"So you fear them," Hawke said, and it wasn't a question.

"It appears the Qun are no different in their thinking of mages as any other in Thedas," Anders remarked, shaking his head sadly.

"Well, we finally agree on something," Bethany whispered.

"We leash Saarebas because they are dangerous and contagious," Arvaarad said in increasingly frustrated tones. He turned his back on Hawke as he muttered, "Not even your Templars fully grasp their threat."

"Contagious? Like a cold?" Anders asked in disbelief. "That's ridiculous!"

"Now is not the time, _mage_ ," warned Fenris.

"My job was to get him out of the city," Hawke finally said, exasperated. "If he wants to go back to you, that's his business."

"You show an unusual ability to reason, _basra_ ," he said, he then turned to Ketojan. "Saarebas! Nehraa aqun ebra kata Arvaarad." _For balance, you know your role is death._

Ketojan stood and growled, and to Hawke's amazement, Arvaarad seemed to understand him.

"You are certain?" Arvaarad asked the mage. Another series of grunts from Ketojan, and Arvaarad lifted an ornately decorated golden rod into the air. "Then we will do it here," he said, and activated the rod. Suddenly, Ketojan, though still collared, was free to speak.

" _Basvaarad_ ," said Ketojan, "you led well. I thank your intent. _Panahedan_ , as you find the Qun." He bowed to her, then moved back to Arvaarad and again dropped to one knee.

"You should be honored by this action _basra,_ " Arvaarad said as reached behind him and drew a long dagger. "It is his last." And with that the Qunari slid the blade into Ketojan's stomach, ending his life.

"Maker!" Anders nearly shouted. "You were to return him to the Qun!"

"He lost his lead," Arvaarad said. "The risk of corruption was certain. But he has owned his death by honoring you. He knows the Qun wants more... as will you."

"Be ready, Hawke," warned Fenris.

"What the blazes is wrong with you?" Hawke asked, and could sense her friends behind her preparing themselves. "Why attack me now?"

"An uncollared Saarebas spoke to you. You were already exposed, and there is no way to know what demon may have already ridden his words." He said the words calmly, with no anger. "Killing you is demanded, but the respect of Saarebas has granted honor. Be grateful." He drew his weapon as the other Qunari gather around them. "Not every neck earns the ceremonial cut."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


It had been most difficult to get rid of Bethany. The others had taken her at her word when Hawke told them she was done fighting for the day. They accepted her regrets when she wouldn't join them at the Hanged Man for ale and cards. Her sister, however, seemed determined to follow her wherever she went.

"Just go home, Bethany," Hawke said, exasperated.

"Why? So you can go to _him_?" she taunted.

Hawke turned so swiftly Bethany nearly ran into her. "What business of yours is it anyway?"

"Sister, you're blind! Everyone else can see that this is nothing but trouble." Bethany linked her arm through Hawke's and tried to tug her along.

"Go _home_ , Bethany," Hawke repeated, and used her greater strength to pull away from her sister. This time, Hawke didn't give her a chance to follow. She was around the corner and pounding down the steps before Bethany had finished calling her name.

Which was why she was somewhat breathless when she finally reached the Qunari compound. The Arishok had allowed her entrance, but had not been exactly welcoming, at least at first. Now, thankfully, he was talking to her.

"We have little to discuss, human," he growled. "For now, I would think on the fate of this city."

"I've just had an interesting confrontation with others in your command," Hawke advised him, trying to keep the breathless quality out of her voice.

The Arishok stared her down, with that intense gaze that always caused her stomach to flutter. "There have been a number of incidents, but you must mean Arvaarad, found dead after tracking Saarebas. I thought nothing could threaten Arvaarad," he added, bowing his head. That the Arvaarad died at the hands of this woman was a shock to him. He hadn't thought it possible until she admitted as much.

"I didn't want to," Hawke said honestly. "I handed over the Saarebas and assumed everyone would walk away... Wait a minute. You're not angry? Why are you not angry?"

"A mage is dead," he said simply. "That is what matters. The rest is... impressive." He stood, wishing to end the conversation and consider this new information. "A warning human. Do not repeat it and expect the same reaction."

Hawke wasn't sure what to make of his seemingly nonchalant attitude. "In the interest of peace and full disclosure then, you should know that a member of the Chantry intended for it to happen. At least I believe as much."

The Arishok didn't seem surprised at her words. "Friend and enemy blend together in this sea of filth. I can barely discern one group from another." He paused for a moment, eyes locked on her. "But as this clearly means something to you, I acknowledge the risk taken."

That caused her heart to skip a beat. Hawke didn't expect such... kindness? She almost considered it an olive branch of sorts. Given the subtle change in his behavior, she tried questioning him on what had happened. "Your Saarebas chose death over leaving the Qun. We would've fought for him, but he bowed to Arvaarad and asked for death."

"That is good to hear," came his reply, returning to his stone bench, as it was clear she wanted to speak further. While he normally had little patience for such triviality, her questioning tone was almost interesting.

Hawke took his lead, assuming he'd indulge her a bit longer, and she stepped forward before sitting on the bottom step of his platform. "Why? I don't understand why he would do such a thing?"

"I am not in the position to educate you," the Arishok said. "But perhaps you will understand this: I would expect nothing more from Saarebas, as he made the right decision in his role within the Qun. If you spoke to Arvaarad before killing him, he should have told you as much."

"He did," Hawke acknowledged. "Please, forgive me if my efforts to figure this out are frustrating to you. But from what you and I have discussed in the past, and considering what Arvaarad said, this Saarebas was in danger of possession because it was away from its lead, and therefore had no choice but to die, just in case?"

"Yes," he replied, taken aback by how much she was beginning to understand, and by her curiosity of his people. "Arvaarad, in your language, means 'one who holds back evil.' Having been taken from his lead, Saarebas could not be certain he was not a danger to himself or to his Karataam. That he chose death is expected. That you survived the battle with Arvaarad was not."

"And that is something else I do not understand," Hawke admitted. "Saarebas spoke to me. He didn't say much, just called me Basvaarad, and then accepted a blade to his stomach. Because he did this, Arvaarad said I had to die as well, believing a demon may have traveled the Saarebas' words and somehow entered me. Arvaarad gave his life for that belief Why is it you don't have that same fear?"

The Arishok leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. "I have come to know more of you since our last meeting. You travel with the mages of your kind; I've seen this with my own eyes. Yet you yourself are detached from them; a skilled warrior who does not rely on magic in battle, as you should not. Though they offer assistance, you do not require it. Arvaarad underestimated you, because he has not seen what I have."

Hawke couldn't help but smile. Had he been thinking about her as much as she was of him? She didn't dare hope, but she couldn't help but tease him. "Been keeping an eye on me have you?"

His demeanor did not change, but Hawke would swear to the Maker she saw him smirk just a little. "You've had several altercations outside the compound. Even Qunari cannot sleep through sounds of combat."

"I shall try to be more quiet next time I'm killing thugs and blood mages," she said as she stood. She didn't want to overstep her welcome, and had a feeling Bethany was waiting for her, with backup no doubt, just outside of view of the Qunari guard.

The Arishok rose to his feet as well and descended the stairs, a grunt his only reply to her last comment. He gestured toward the gate, apparently finished with this conversation, but she found his offering of an escort across the compound to be rather curious.

It wasn't until they reached the gate that the Arishok spoke to her one last time. "You should know, human, that for Saarebas to speak to you before death, to call you Basvaarad, is a great honor among my people."

"Basvaarad," Hawke repeated the word, careful to pronounce it exactly as he had. "What does that mean anyway?"

The Arishok opened the gate for her. "It means you are worthy of following. From what I have seen thus far, he was not wrong."


	4. Blackpowder Courtesy

**Chapter Title: Blackpowder Courtesy**  
 **Written by: FenZev, Wintryone, & LucienGrey**  
 **Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: The Arishok requests Hawke's aid in recovering a poisonous gas.**

* * *

At first Hawke was glad to get out of the city. It took her far away from the Qunari compound, and most especially, away from one of its particular occupants. She hoped this _adventure_ , as Bodahn had called it, would help her forget about the Arishok, and all the unfamiliar and unwanted feelings she'd been experiencing over the past year.

In the end, she'd chosen to bring her sister, afraid of leaving Bethany behind and at the mercy of the Templars. She'd also brought Fenris, not only because he was such a skilled warrior, but because she found an odd comfort in his friendship. He wasn't the affectionate, effusive type, no. Yet she knew she could count on him no matter what the Deep Roads threw at them.

What they'd faced in the underbelly of Thedas - well, even after enduring the Blight in Ferelden and all the trouble she'd dealt with in Kirkwall, she couldn't say she'd been prepared for it. Darkspawn were everywhere, like rats in a sewer, and more than once they'd almost been overwhelmed to the point that Hawke feared for their lives.

Yet thoughts of the Arishok were always on her mind, and she found herself spending the evenings in camp discussing him, and the Qunari in general, with Fenris, as they sat cleaning and sharpening their blades after each evening's meal. She noticed the look of concern in the elf's eyes, even as he was honest and forthcoming in their discussions. Perhaps the most important thing she'd learned was that there was no pleasing someone like the Arishok. The Qun and its demands would always be his first and only concern.

Unfortunately, her subconscious mind didn't care; her dreams of the Arishok continued on, and if anything they became more vivid... more graphic. She awoke many times confused and disoriented to find herself deep under the earth, her heart and body yearning for what she knew she should not want. What she could never have.

When they finally found the ancient Thaig from Bartrand's maps, Hawke felt nothing but relief. She was sure there was more treasure around, but once they'd found the lyrium idol sitting innocently on its pedestal, she never had the chance to find out.

The way Varric tossed it so casually down to his brother had, at first, quelled the uneasiness she'd felt upon first seeing it. Bethany, too, seemed disturbed by the idol, and backed away from it, shaking her head.

"Look Bartrand, an idol made of lyrium," Varric said. "Could be worth a fortune!"

Bartrand let out a long, slow whistle. "I'll bet," he'd said. Hawke had watched in disbelief as Bartrand had casually strolled to the door... and shut it behind him. They raced down the steps, pounded and pulled on the door, but to no avail. Varric's angry voice as he tried to convince Bartrand to open the door had been no more than a wash of words to Hawke.

In the end, Bartrand had betrayed them - sacrificed them all for a single piece of treasure.

The next few weeks had been unbearable - a nightmare of hunger and endless days of searching through decaying, collapsing tunnels. Fortunately, this part of the Deep Roads held few darkspawn, but that didn't mean lack of food and water wouldn't kill them.

Finally, Hawke saw some light at the end of the tunnel, almost literally. "This part of the Deep Roads looks familiar," she said with some relief.

"We're back where we started," Varric said cheerily. "And in only five days. Not bad, hey?

From behind them, Bethany's weak voice caught their attention. "Could we... slow down? I'm not feeling very well."

Completely focused on getting out of this blasted hole, Hawke barely glanced at her sister and said, "Let's not spend more time down here than we have to."

Varric laughed. "I'll wager it was those deep mushrooms we found."

"No," Bethany moaned, and a small sound of distress escaped her throat as she dropped to her knees.

"Bethany!" Hawke shouted, getting a good look at her sister for the first time. There were dark blue veins standing out against the paleness of her skin, and her eyes - they were too dark, and suddenly Hawke's stomach dropped to her feet.

"It's the Blight, isn't it?" I'll end up just like Wesley, won't I?" Bethany asked, her voice filled with fear and pain.

Hawke dropped down next her her sister, and put all the certainty in her voice she could find. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"I'm not going to last until the surface," she whispered, and a sob welled up from her throat. "It's coming on faster."

"Ahh, we're in the middle of nowhere," said Varric, and his cheerfulness was replaced by obvious concern. "There's no way... oh, Sunshine."

"Help me, Fenris," said Hawke as took Bethany into her arms. "Let's get her somewhere more comfortable."

Over the next few hours, Hawke tended her sister as best she could, but in her heart, she knew there was nothing she could do to save Bethany. She knew what was coming, but could not bring herself to say it out loud - could not bear the idea of what she would be forced to do - to her beautiful, sweet sister.

It turned out that Bethany was the braver of the two, because finally she broke the long silence.

"You'll take care of it, won't you, sis?" Bethany asked, a note of pleading in her voice.

"I'll make it quick," Hawke said, and choked back her own tears. This was no time to show weakness, for Bethany's sake.

And as she took her knife, and plunged it deeply into her sister's heart - as she watched the life fade from her once lovely eyes - Hawke felt as if she'd also killed a part of her own soul.

They made it back to Kirkwall, and amid apologies and promises of wealth and fame, she took her leave of Varric and Fenris and made her way back to Uncle Gamlen's house. Leandra's excitement upon seeing her was another blow to Hawke's already wounded heart, and she felt as cold as ice as she told her mother that Bethany would not be coming back.

Another failure. Another loss. What difference was wealth and fame when everyone she loved died because she was not strong enough to save them?

Hawke resolved then and there to never allow herself to care for anyone so deeply again. She vowed to herself that she would focus only on her mother and, for a few years, it seemed to work. Leandra Amell was restored to her childhood home, and Hawke found new acceptance and privilege among the higher classes of Kirkwall. Yes, she indulged herself in fine food and wines, and spent many nights drinking and playing cards in the company of her friends.

But alone, in her spacious and luxurious new bedroom, once she closed her eyes, she only saw _him._ The Arishok. And all the feelings she tried to deny and suppress throughout the daylight hours, would come crashing down on Hawke in her dreams.

What would she do? She had no idea.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


"The Arishok requested you?" Aveline asked in disbelief. "By name?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "I don't see what the big deal is. And you said that just like the Viscount. Careful Aveline, you've been in the Keep too long."

"You have to admit it's alarming," Aveline suggested. "Why go to the Viscount? Why not send one of his messengers to your home if he knows who you are?"

"Karassad," Fenris corrected behind them. "He would send a soldier, they do not have messengers."

Aveline huffed. "Does it matter what they are called? The point is you are in way over your head here Hawke, and I can't have my guards at risk by being in the middle of whatever the Arishok has planned for you."

Anders chuckled. "I don't think you want your guard in the middle of what Hawke has planned."

Hawke turned around and glared at the mage. "You really aren't going to let that go, are you?" she asked. Before Anders could open his mouth to reply, Hawke cut him off. "Perhaps my blade across your tongue will help you."

Fenris didn't bother to hide his pleasure that Hawke had threatened Anders, and let loose one of his rare laughs. The mage shot him an evil look.

Satisfied she'd shut him up, Hawke turned her attention back to the guard captain. "I am bringing you along as a sign of unity - of my loyalty to this city, its guard, and the Viscount. Dumar seemed rather unsettled that the Qunari are still here, and many others share his concern. I'm not always irrational, Aveline."

"We'll see about that," she said as they ascended the stairs to the compound.

The compound hadn't changed over the years, and neither had the faces that glared derisively at Hawke and her companions as they entered. Though they all looked the same after a while, the Qunari stood in the same positions, strategically placed around the area. She had never given it much thought before, but studying their formation now, it was clear to Hawke their main purpose was to protect the Arishok.

Seeing him after so many years, in the flesh and not in her fantasies, Hawke noticed that he too hadn't changed. Surely the Qunari must age like any other, but he didn't look any different than what she remembered, or imagined.

One noticeable change made her nearly falter in her stance; the way he greeted her. "Serah Hawke," the Arishok said in his usual husky voice. "Last we met, I did not know your name. Did not care to."

So, she was no longer just "human" to him. An interesting turn of events. And the way he had said her name… _Not the time to dwell on it Hawke,_ she reminded herself. "Arishok," she returned with his title, doubting she would ever know his real name.

"You have changed your station over the years," he said. Waving a hand to indicate his present surroundings, he continued. "The Qunari have not."

Had he been keeping tabs on her? The mystery of this man was as frustrating as his riddled tongue. Hawke considered responding with her usual sarcasm but, after her discussions with Fenris in the Deep Roads, she knew the Arishok would not appreciate her wit. "I have worked hard to get where I am now," she replied. "And it did not come without sacrifice."

His usually hardened expression softened slightly, and Hawke wondered exactly how much he'd discovered about her last three years in Kirkwall. "You have my sympathy," he said, confirming her thoughts, though he didn't dwell on it. "I offer a courtesy Hawke. Someone has stolen what he thinks is the formula for the gaatlok. You will want to hunt him."

"That explosive Javaris was after a few years ago?" Hawke asked. "I thought he gave up on that?"

"I do not know who, nor do I care," the Arishok told her. "But thousands will die. It was not the gaatlok they stole, but rather a decoy of saar-qamek, a poisonous gas that will cause madness among your people. It will turn allies against their own in blind rage, before it kills them."

Hawke thought on his words. "I have to ask, why give me this warning? You made your hatred for this city clear the last time we met. Why send for me at all when this could be the solution you were looking for to rid the city of filth, as you say?"

"I don't call anyone in Kirkwall an ally or even a good rival," he stated. "But you - you have shown competence. The day will come when the Qun will demand an accounting; until then, I will show respect to the most promising among you."

She tried to hide her pleasure in hearing his compliment. "Alright then, I will find Javaris, or whoever is responsible. You have my word."

The Arishok seemed pleased in her confidence. "Panahedan Hawke. I do not hope you die."

When they exited the compound, Aveline turned to Hawke. "If he was so concerned about the citizens of this city, why did he allow this decoy to be stolen in the first place? Shouldn't he send his own men to correct his mistake?"

"It's a test," Hawke informed her. "He's testing me, am I right?" she asked Fenris.

The elf nodded. "It would appear so. He would also have put up an appearance at protecting the decoy to draw out those that wish to harm his people. Recovering the gas is as much a test as making it known it was available, to see who would come for it."

"And what does Panahedan mean?" Hawke asked.

Fenris hesitated in his response, not wishing to feed into her already unhealthy fascination with the Qunari. "In everyday conversation it means 'goodbye,'" he told her.

"And in not-so-much everyday?" she prodded.

"He wishes for your safe return from battle."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


"I half expected you to kill the annoying dwarf," Aveline commented as they exited the coast.

Finding Javaris cowering around his hired mercenaries was enough to convince Hawke he wasn't capable of stealing from the Qunari. Interrogating their only lead with nothing but fear, Javaris informed them that it was an elf behind the theft of the poisonous gas. When Javaris stood before her, quivering in his new boots, Hawke was tempted to just end the man.

"I don't suppose I can go around killing whoever annoys me with you watching over me, _Guard Captain_ ," Hawke replied, disappointment evident in her voice. She could've sworn she heard Fenris chuckle behind her, but when she turned to catch him in the rare event, his face remained stoic.

Following Javaris' information to an alley near Lowtown, Aveline's guards were already on site, attempting to control the situation. It was clear they were in over their heads, and Hawke strode past them, avoiding the boring discussion between the captain and her men. Something needed to be done, and she was going to do it. What was the sense in talking about it, Hawke wondered?

The Arishok wasn't kidding when he claimed the gas could turn one mad. Within the green haze she was inhaling, Hawke found herself even angrier than usual. It fueled her fight though, taking on the waves of zealots, who under the influence of the saar-qamek, found it necessary to attack her and her friends. Barrels of the gas were leaking through the area; not only were her emotions affected, but her eyes began to sting and water, making the fight that much more difficult.

Thankfully, Anders was there to assist, shielding them whenever possible to prevent the toxic fumes from overwhelming them. The three warriors dispatched the attackers with ease, and only when all others had fallen did the elusive elf in charge show herself.

"Is that... Serah Hawke?" The elf spoke, the first one of the dozens to bother to do so. "You have enemies," she stated.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Tell me something I don't know."

"I'm glad it's you," she replied. Looking down at the carnage Hawke and the others had made of her followers, the elf shook her head. "All these poor people. But you, you are a much better target."

"Would you care to explain your particular brand of crazy?" Hawke asked, already tiring of the discussion.

The elf went on about her people abandoning their heritage and joining the Qunari. Claimed that she had supporters within the city that backed her plan of framing the Qunari to make the Viscount finally take action and remove them from Kirkwall. It was clear the elf had been sniffing too much of the gas herself, and Hawke didn't bother to listen to the rest of what she had to say.

"Only one thing to do to with a mad dog," Hawke said, her only warning to the elf that the fight was to begin again. The sword the elf pulled from her back was bigger than Hawke's, and for a moment she was surprised to see another elven warrior, other than Fenris. It didn't take long, however, for her to recover herself and meet the lunatic with her own sword swinging.

Sounds of the battle waged behind her, but Hawke kept her focus on their leader. Sparks flew as their blades met. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised at the ferocity of the elf's attack, and she barely dodged several blows that could have caused her serious harm. In the end, it was a hard won fight - but win she did.

Hawke rejoined her companions and made short work of the last of the followers. She left the mess for the city guard to worry about.

"Let's get out of here," was all she said, as she turned and pushed through the gates.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


It was well into the evening when Hawke went to advise the Arishok of what had happened. She hadn't bothered telling the others she was going to do so; this was something she wanted to do alone. Knowing none of them would approve of this action, especially Fenris, Hawke waited until they were all deep into their card game before slipping out of the Hanged Man.

Hawke wondered to herself when it was the compound had become less intimidating as she approached the gate. The lone guard stood, eyeing her as she ascended the stairs. "You are allowed Basra, until the Arishok declares otherwise."

Well, that was good to know. She gave the guard a brief nod as she entered the temporary home of the Qunari, and saw that the Arishok was already on his makeshift throne, waiting for her.

Hawke got right to the point, knowing he wasn't one for pleasantries. "It wasn't Javaris," she informed him. "An elf, who unfortunately did not live long enough to give me her name, set up this little challenge. We were met with heavy resistance, no doubt she has followers."

"So," the Arishok muttered. "I was wrong about our thief."

"It appears so," Hawke informed him. She was careful not to acknowledge his mistake with any malice. Perhaps he too hoped it was Javaris and not something bigger threatening to drive the wedge of peace between Kirkwall and Qunari.

A low growl rumbled in this throat. "They say this is our fault, that we were careless. It is clear there would have been death with or without our involvement. This elf was determined to lay blame at our feet." He stood, pacing his platform. "I admire conviction with a focus, but your kind are truly committed to weakness."

Hawke sighed, unable to help herself. "I do wish you'd stop lumping me in with your insults of my people."

The Arishok paused in his steps and turned his gaze on her. "You're right, you are not as weak as those who fester in this city."

His words surprised her, and for a moment Hawke wasn't sure what the proper response should be. Should she acknowledge his statement and thank him? No, after all Fenris had explained to her in the Deep Roads about the Qunari, she knew that showing appreciation for his compliment would somehow, for whatever reason, lessen his opinion of her. _Know who you are as he sees you_ , he had said. _Behave as such, and you will earn his respect._

A slight nod was all she offered before continuing. "I find myself curious why you are not more concerned about her supporters," Hawke stated.

Not taking his eyes off her, the Arishok responded to her curiosity. "Our enemies strike in shadow because they can not stand before us. This is not a revelation, nor does it matter. I am not here to fight. I am here to satisfy a demand you cannot understand."

Hawke's jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth, suppressing her growing frustration. The Arishok continued to do this to her; almost made her feel as an equal, or at least higher than average, and then put her down as if she hadn't a brain in her head. What was it she wouldn't understand? He didn't even try to explain himself.

"It's been a long time," Hawke said as she folded her arms across her chest.

That struck some nerve within him. "It will take as long as needed," the Arishok replied. "No ship is coming, there is no rescue, until our duty is fulfilled." He snarled, his steel eyes narrowing. "I am stuck here."

His anger sparked her own. Instead of being frightened of his change in demeanor, Hawke felt the need to lash back. "You keep going on about that, but never _say_ anything."

"Should I argue the wind?" he asked her. Without bothering to wait for an answer, he continued. "Very well. Filth stole from us. Not now, not this latest transgression. Years ago. A simple act of greed has bound me. And now we remain here, denied our home, until I alone recover what was lost under my command."

Hawke hadn't expected the rage in which she apparently ignited, but she struggled to keep her composure as his large form walked down the steps toward her. "That is why this elf and her shadows are unimportant," he continued, never blinking, staring into her eyes. "That is why I do not simply walk from this pustule of a city."

Her blood raced within her, heart beating so loud she was sure he'd heard it. But she did not move. Again Fenris' voice lingered in her mind. _Do not show weakness Hawke, even when you feel it the strongest._

The shadow of his large form enveloped her, but Hawke stood firm as he continued, his voice rising. "Fixing your mess is not the demand of the Qun, and you should all be grateful!"

Hawke narrowed her eyes at him as he was within inches from her face. The two locked their gaze upon one another, neither one backing down, and neither one showing the slightest hesitation. This was a test, she knew this, and she would be damned if she was going to fail. He was expecting fear, hesitation, and she was not going to give it to him.

The Arishok did not expect such strength from this human. Though he knew her to be capable and with skill, he had assumed she would, at the very least, take a step back. Yet she did not change her position, and he could see no fear in her eyes. She had provoked him, caused him to lose his calm, something no one had ever done to him. And now standing face to face with him, the warrior continued to lack weakness. He took in a deep breath, inhaling her scent as if her fear were kept hidden from her eyes, but there was none. Only that lingering hint of desire she held for him.

This caused an odd sense of warmth within him, and it was the Arishok that backed away first. Even under direct threat, her body exuded want for him, and this confused him. She was not of the Qun, and yet in that moment, had she been a female of his race, he would have dominated her into submission for her defiance. The fact that he wanted to intrigued him, and also caused him shame.

Hanging his head in contemplation, the Arishok ascended the stairs and sat on his broad bench. "Thank you, Hawke, for your service," he said calmly. "Now leave."

Hawke forced her legs to move against their will as she retreated from the compound. It wasn't until she was clear of the gate that she leaned against the wall and allowed herself to breath again. The intensity of his eyes, the scrutiny she had just endured, all caught up with her at once, and her knees nearly buckled.

Had her imagination played tricks on her? Was the Arishok as fascinated, as wanting and curious, as she was? There was something in his stare, in the way he stood over her and dared her to back down, that was frighteningly desirable. And when she hadn't backed down, she noticed the change in him. For one brief moment she thought he would have thrown her to the ground and taken what he wanted, what she wanted, right there.

It could have been all the dreams she'd had about him. Or the many conversations her and Fenris had shared about Qunari customs. More than likely it was only her fantasies playing themselves out in her mind. There was no possibility of a union between them, Fenris had made that clear, but that didn't stop her from thinking about the Arishok as she willed her feet to take her home.


	5. Offered and Lost

**Chapter Title: Offered and Lost**  
Written by: Wintryone, LucienGrey, & FenZev  
Beta'd by: Erana  
Chapter Summary: Political corruption and Chantry treachery conspire to bring Hawke and the Arishok together again.  


* * *

_Years of nice, quiet anxiety... Gone._

Hawke was no fan of playing politics, even if it was for the Viscount of Kirkwall. As she ascended the grand staircase of the Keep, she'd been suddenly struck by the opulence of the place - so different from the Qunari compound. But, she wondered, who actually held more power?

The more she interacted with the Arishok the more Hawke was beginning to understand and even respect the Qunari. Which made returning to the Keep to inform Dumar of what had transpired at the compound almost feel like... a betrayal? The Viscount had sent her to appease the Arishok. The Arishok had warned her, and she happened to agree, that the city may need stricter discipline. And now here she was warning the leader of the city that the Arishok, though resentful of the fact, had no intention of leaving Kirkwall anytime soon.

Hater of politics indeed, and yet she was smack in the middle of it.

Entering the Viscount's office, the atmosphere was heavy with depression and frustration. It was clear that he was overwhelmed and, with his mention of anxiety, it was a wonder to Hawke that he'd managed to rule this long. "I took care of those responsible," Hawke assured him after he commented on losing an entire street in Lowtown to the noxious gas. Her statement, however, brought him little comfort.

Dumar turned and rested his hands on his desk, hanging his head in disbelief. "Yes, I read the report. A mad elf, pushed by zealots that are likely hidden in the very groups I have to appease. The Maker has a grand sense of humor. And the Arishok - I suspected he had no plans to leave. I didn't know it was just as annoying for him."

"Keep the worst of them off his back and it'll be alright," Hawke warned. "Though you could send him gold and he'd probably complain it was heavy."

A hand to his brow told Hawke there was trouble. "I fear it's about to get worse. A shame really, there were overtures of civility - your influence no doubt. But the situation has already escalated, despite your efforts."

Hawke was surprised by his comment. Was he implying that the Arishok was being less annoying than usual because of her interactions with him? Or perhaps she was merely the distraction that kept the Arishok's attention away from the city's annoyances. Either way, she found herself curious to know just how much the Viscount knew of what was happening within his city.

She was certain though, that Kirkwall could not afford to antagonize the Arishok any further. "Don't tell me something else has happened?"

"I feel I've been trying to turn a stampede for some time now," he replied without giving her a clear answer. "Speak with Seneschal Bran. Then you will see why I can not trust anyone else with this."

Hawke wouldn't have said that Seneschal Bran was one of her favorite people. In fact, she'd always found him rather annoying. The Viscount's request that she speak to Bran had brought them together again, and this time? Hawke was disgusted.

The man was complicit to say the least, and downright corrupt if she wanted to be honest. The Arishok had sent a delegate to the Keep in an attempt to generate understanding and preserve the peace. Considering everything the Qunari leader had seen of the city, it was a very generous gesture indeed. Though, as usual, Dumar and his sidekick had shown the worst kind of incompetence.

How dare Bran recommend the Qunari weapons be bound! The man was worse than a fool! Then, to top it all off, he'd laid the blame at the feet of the city guard. For once, she'd actually been proud that Aveline had held her temper, but Hawke had seen the way her cheeks had flamed, nearly the same red shade as her hair.

Obviously, the guard _were_ involved, and a trip to the Hanged Man was next on her agenda. This time, she wasn't just doing it because it was the right thing. This time, she was doing it for _him_ , for the Arishok. Everything in her wanted to find the missing delegates and return them safely to the compound. Yet there was a feeling of dread in her stomach, which was her best clue that it wouldn't turn out the way she hoped.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Before going to Lowtown, Hawke decided to take a slight detour to the docks. Once again she found herself visiting the Arishok without her companions by her side, telling them she'd meet them later that evening when their quarry would more likely be at the bar.

Hawke couldn't be certain if she made these solo visits because she wanted to prove to him that she did not fear him, or she was hopeful if they were alone something more would happen. A foolish thought; there would be nothing, as Fenris had rather annoyingly reminded her.

Still, her heart skipped a beat as she entered the compound. Hawke inhaled deeply before rounding the corner to the Arishok's makeshift throne, as Anders had come to call it. The scent of leather, steel, and warpaint was oddly comforting.

The expression on the Arishok's face however, was not. "What do you want, Hawke?" he asked after he dismissed one of his men from sight. Whatever she had interrupted seemed important. "I have no interest in adding to my distractions."

Was she a distraction for him then? Hawke almost wanted to ask, but refrained as the Arishok did not appear to be in a good mood. Then again, was he ever? "And yet you sent a delegate to the Viscount," she replied carefully, curious as to why he would make such a gesture in the first place.

"A brief attempt to educate," he informed her. "If that dwarf had stolen the saar-qamek, it could've been used to show the price of greed. But you know the outcome of that. These fools are determined to be wrong. I won't waste the effort again."

"Perhaps you should've quit sooner," Hawke said. "Your delegate is missing."

The Arishok remained placid, but his next statement was not. "Anyone else, and those words would've been their last." He thought for a moment before continuing. "You are handling this? Not your buffoon of a viscount?"

"Of course," Hawke assured him. "You made the effort by reaching out, it's the least I can do in return."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Once again this human was proving her worth, and the Arishok was not accustomed to the uncertainty she stirred within him. "Then I will wait," he decided, though not without also offering a warning. "But know this; the provocations we have suffered have worked. If this is not resolved, I can fulfill my duty to the Qun with far less annoyance by sifting through rubble."

Hawke nodded. "I understand. For what it's worth, I appreciate your restraint in not killing me for bringing this to your attention," she added, acknowledging his earlier statement.

There was a smile behind his eyes, Hawke was sure of it, though she thought only someone like her, who had studied his dark gaze, would've noticed.

"I leave this to you Hawke," the Arishok concluded. "I am eager to see how you resolve this."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Orwald the Braggart. With a name like that, of course he'd accepted a bribe. A bribe from a Templar, and with the Grand Cleric's seal no less. Just when Hawke thought the situation could not possibly be worse... She really had to stop thinking that way. It was always worse, and more and more she was beginning to agree with the Arishok that Kirkwall was most decidedly a pustule of a city. Everywhere she turned, from the lowest street urchin to those in the highest places of power - she saw nothing but treachery, corruption and dishonor. Was the Arishok right? Would Kirkwall benefit from a... A what was it? A cleansing?

A question for later, perhaps. For now, she had to focus. Grand Cleric Elthina had to be told.

The Chantry interior was dim and smoky from incense, and Hawke blinked her eyes several times to adjust her vision.

"Tread carefully, Hawke," Fenris cautioned. "We've seen treachery in this quarter before."

"The elf is right," said Varric. "You'd be more likely to get an honest deal at the Rose than here."

"I still say we should have gone to the Gallows, first," said Aveline. "If it was a Templar who bribed my guardsman..."

"The Grand Cleric's seal trumps the Knight Commander," said Hawke. "If there are answers, we'll find them here."

Hawke immediately approached a Sister to notify Elthina of her arrival, but the woman had barely stood to comply, when in walked Sister Petrice.

"Serah Hawke," Petrice said condescendingly.

"Sister Petrice." Suddenly puzzle pieces began to lock together in Hawke's mind, and she had the sinking feeling she knew what was coming. Of course, who else would be behind a missing Qunari delegate? After what Petrice had attempted with Saarebas, she should have guessed the Chantry Sister was involved as soon as the Viscount had delivered the news.

" _Mother_ Petrice," she said in that same, annoying tone. "Time has changed us both. Grand Cleric Elthina cannot grant an audience to just anyone. What do you want?"

 _What I want_ , thought Hawke, _is to ram my fist down your throat._ Instead, Hawke said, "Interesting how trouble with the Qunari always leads back to you."

"And you always assume their side," Petrice countered. "I was naïve when last we met. I did not want you dead, but I felt _a_ death was necessary. That may be too fine a point for you to understand, but you must admit, you came out the better for it."

"I know you," Hawke said, cutting straight to the point. "Someone is misusing the Grand Cleric's seal."

As she'd hoped, Petrice's eyes widened, then just as swiftly narrowed. "Who are you to question who serves Her Grace?"

Hawke took a step forward. "I am an interested party," said Hawke with barely controlled violence. "If I assume the Qunari's side, as you accused, it's only because I find the Arishok honorable." Hawke lowered her voice and made an accusation of her own. "While in the mighty Chantry, I have found nothing but deceit and disgrace."

"How dare you," Petrice said vehemently.

Before she could go on, however, Hawke continued. "The Grand Cleric's authority was used to abduct a Qunari delegate. I will have answers."

Petrice no longer attempted to contain her hatred, and it flashed from her eyes malevolently. Her lips thinned, her brow creased and it was a long moment before she spoke. Oh, she knew, alright. Hawke was sure of it.

"The Grand Cleric trusts her stewards to enact the wishes of the Maker," Petrice finally said, in an obvious attempt at prevaricating.

"Stop stalling," Hawke demanded. "What have you done?"

"Stubborn," said Petrice, under her breath. "I will offer you this. The Templar you seek is a radical, one who has become... unreliable."

"And his relationship to you is?" Hawke asked, thinking she already knew the answer.

"He is my former bodyguard, Ser Varnell." Petrice reached into her robes and drew out a parchment. "You will find what you need here." She considered Hawke before she nodded, as if to herself. "Confronting him may do us all a favor."

She may not have the certainty of the Qun, but Hawke was sure of one thing. She would _not_ be doing any favors for Petrice. For the Arishok, though? That was another matter entirely.

As they left the Chantry, she heard Varric clear his throat behind her. "That's a set-up," he said.

"It's her game," Hawke replied as she pushed through the doors with more force than was necessary. "For the moment."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Hawke was not in the least surprised that Ser Varnell's refuge was in the Undercity. The tunnels beneath Kirkwall were littered with hideouts for the fanatical, the mercenary, and sometimes the downright insane. She had the uneasy feeling that Varnell might be all three.

His snide voice drifted down the tunnels long before they could see him. "Qunari hold no real power. Like any beast, remove the fangs and it is lost. They are weak before the faithful of the Maker. The only certainty in their precious Qun is death before the righteous."

They arrived just in time to see Varnell ram his gauntleted fist into the stomach of a Qunari. A bound Qunari, who had no means to defend himself, other than to let forth an impressive growl. Three other Qunari, and one of them was most definitely Arvaarad, were chained against the wall in the same manner. Surrounding them were dozens of Ser Varnell's _faithful_ , all carrying crudely made weapons.

Hawke's blood began to boil, and she opened her mouth to challenge the Templar, but before she could speak...

"Ser Varnell!" called _Mother_ Petrice.

Suddenly, the derision was wiped from Varnell's face, and he looked positively happy. "Take a knee, faithful," he said and gestured to Petrice. "The Chantry blesses us."

Petrice, however, was clearly about to throw her dog to the wolves.

"You claim a blessing when you have used the authority of the Grand Cleric so openly?" Petrice challenged Varnell. She paced behind Hawke, remaining purposefully just out of her view. "You have brought wrath down upon you!" No matter how Hawke turned her head, she wasn't able to catch the woman's eye, and she was becoming increasingly frustrated by the Mother's subterfuge and trickery. Yet, Petrice continued on. "You remember Serah Hawke? The Qunari have friends, Templar. How will you answer their allegations?"

At this point Hawke wasn't sure if she wanted to attack Varnell, or turn around and break the Chantry Mother's nose. Or perhaps have Fenris do that trick with his fist. That might be good. In her heart, however, she knew her first priority was to save the delegates. "You want a fight?" she called to Varnell. "Face someone whose weapons are not bound!"

Hawke should have known what came next, because Varnell had already proven that he had no integrity - no honor. The Templar responded by drawing his dagger, and in one swift move, slit the Qunari's throat. "Righteous!" he called. "Destroy them!"

Somewhere in the confusion, Petrice had slipped away, and the only thing left to do was fight.

When it was over, Hawke looked down on the murdered Qunari corpses with a heavy heart. Varnell was dead, yes, along with all his faithful followers, but she had not been able to save these noble warriors from such an ignoble death.

Aveline had gone to fetch Dumar to the bloody scene, while Varric discreetly looted the faithful's bodies. Fenris, however, came over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hawke," he said, "You mustn't blame yourself."

"I don't," she said. "I blame Petrice and Varnell. Maker, maybe even Elthina, for not keeping a better eye on her people."

"You cannot fool me, Hawke," he said. "You think you should have been able to save them."

Hawke sighed. "Yes, I should have been able to save those proud warriors, Fenris. I was right here, within reach, but..."

"You cannot save everyone, Hawke," he replied, with perhaps more compassion in his voice than she'd ever heard before.

 _No, I cannot. Not my brother, not my sister... not even myself,_ she thought.

By the time Viscount Dumar arrived at the scene, Hawke was exhausted; body, mind and soul. She wanted a drink, a bath and a bed, in that order. Instead, she was forced to listen to Dumar drone on and on about how this was all so bad for him, politically speaking. He would lose supporters, he couldn't believe the Chantry was involved, things couldn't get any worse.

Hawke knew from experience that he was wrong on that count. Finally, when he was finished with his whining, he turned to her.

"I can't return the bodies to the Arishok in this state," he said and glanced over at the bloody corpses with a grimace. "Serah Hawke, you know the Arishok. What should I do?"

The nerve of this simpering fool! Again trying to put her in a position of mediation between the city and the Qunari. She should let him hide the bodies, and he could tell the Arishok they were never found. That would bring the Arishok's wrath down upon Kirkwall in a blaze of fury like the city had not seen since the days of the Tevinter Magisters.

If she hadn't glanced at Fenris, and seen the very real concern in his eyes, she might have done just that. Instead, she said wearily, "Hiding this would only make it worse."

"It would, wouldn't it?" he agreed. "I'm losing my sense of how to balance this nightmare."

Hawke shrugged off his thanks, but accepted his coin.

Once the Viscount and his entourage were gone, Hawke was preparing to leave when Fenris stopped her.

"Perhaps," he began, but then seemed to hesitate.

"What is it, Fenris?" she asked.

He straightened his shoulders as if he'd come to a decision. "You would do well to return the blades of these fallen warriors to the Arishok."

His words triggered a long-ago memory of Saemus explaining that the bodies meant nothing, but the weapons of the Qunari held great meaning. "Thank you, Fenris," she said sincerely, and together they gathered the swords.

She had one more stop to make before this night was through.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Hawke approached the compound, the Qunari delegates swords bundled in a leather wrap secure within her arms. Maker, they were heavy, and she was grateful Fenris had helped her carry them to the docks. Amid protests, Hawke gathered them for herself and bid farewell to Fenris, wishing him no harm should the delivery spark anger within the Arishok. Before he left, Hawke handed him her own sword, in the hopes of representing peace by entering the compound unarmed.

Fenris accepted, though he did not agree with her choice.

Normally the guard at the entrance muttered some acknowledgment that she was only permitted on a temporary basis. But as she ascended the stairs he focused on what she brought with her, and the Karasaad - what she had come to learn was the the Qunari word for soldier - opened the gate for her without a word. Hawke hadn't been to the compound this late at night; bracing herself for what was to come, she took those final steps into the lion's den.

A large fire blazed and crackled in the center of the yard. Several Qunari were seated around the pit, and their heads turned toward her when the creak of the wooden gate shut behind her. Hawke could see the Arishok through the flames, his eyes on her glinting in the firelight. She approached with caution, nerves weighing heavily in her gut.

Almost simultaneously they stood, including the Arishok, as she extended her arms to present them with the blades. Hawke could see now that the Arishok was not dressed in his normal protective garb; though his warpaint remained, his large red pauldrons, leather skirt, and straps across his chest were noticeably absent from his broad stance.

Hawke's heart leapt in her throat when she heard the heavy fall of footsteps behind her; the guard from the entrance had followed her into the compound. He reached out his arms to her, offering to relieve her of her burden, and Hawke carefully relinquished the weapons, not wishing to cut him by mistake. The Karasaad then retreated, ascending the stairs parallel to the Arishok's throne, before disappearing behind the stoned wall. The rest of the company followed, leaving Hawke alone with the Arishok.

"Sit," he ordered, gesturing to the now vacant crates.

With no hesitation she did so, surprised her head was still intact. "Where did everyone go?" Hawke asked, her curiosity getting the better of her in this otherwise intense moment.

"Below the compound," the Arishok stated, somewhat annoyed as it was perfectly clear where they went. "They will spend the rest of the evening and well into tomorrow honoring the fallen."

"You don't need to be with them?"

"No," came his answer quickly and somewhat abruptly.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Hawke said. Having forgotten to ask Fenris to elaborate further on how the Qunari handle death, she wasn't sure what else to say.

The Arishok kept his gaze fixed on her. "So you could not rescue my delegate," he acknowledged. Shifting his glare from her eyes to her armor, he continued. "But you killed those responsible?"

"I did," she admitted.

"And you have an explanation for what happened?"

Hawke shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden crate. "A fanatic used your warriors to incite others of his kind."

The Arishok had suspected as much, but still it surprised him to hear her admit the truth. The gesture of returning their weapons also did not go unnoticed. Perhaps she understood more than he anticipated. "I accept your word, Hawke," he replied.

"That's it?" she asked, surprised he was remaining so calm about what had happened.

Leaning forward, the flames of the fire reflected off the large gold necklace he wore around his neck. Hawke was mesmerized by it, until his words interrupted her thoughts. "I have seen every vice and weakness of your kind, and how few of you take responsibility." He paused, turning his head to look at her again. "Your Viscount remains a fool, but you are not. For now, I will keep one good thought about your kind."

Her cheeks burned, whether from the compliment or the heat of the fire, Hawke wasn't sure. Being alone with him was... different. He seemed less guarded, maybe more willing to carry on their conversation now that the others weren't around? She decided to take advantage of the time while she could. "May I ask you something?"

Leaning back, the Arishok stretched. "You may," he replied, curious what she wanted to know.

Gathering her thoughts and embracing the opportunity to hopefully speak freely, Hawke decided her first question should be something close to her warrior heart, and it was something she had been meaning to bring up again since they first discussed it. "You said once that the rule of the Qun is not military. That it was instead about discipline and order, but you wouldn't elaborate. Considering it has been some time since that discussion, and I believe I have a better understanding, can you comment further now on what you meant? On what the difference is?"

He could admit to himself that she was correct in stating she had a clearer picture of the Qunari as a whole, so he indulged her curiosity. "To your limited understanding, it is not different," the Arishok began. "As your soldiers answer to a higher command, so do the Qun. But while your leaders are put into position by politics and greed, ours have been sustained throughout the centuries based on tradition, role, and purpose."

"Go on," Hawke prodded, leaning closer as she listened to his words.

"The triumvirate divides and governs," the Arishok explained. "Three individuals, at the head of their respective paths, represent the Qunari as a whole. They assign paths, creating the role we will fulfill beginning with our birth."

"What are the three paths?" Hawke asked, fascinated by not only the information he was offering, but also by his voice as she listened to him speak.

"Arishok, Arigena, and Ariqun. Those are the three pillars of Qunari society. As you are aware, we do not use names, but rather our titles to identify ourselves to outsiders. Arishok represents the body, Arigena the mind, and Ariqun the soul."

Hawke was beginning to understand. "So you being the Arishok, you are one of three in this Triumvirate?"

He nodded, impressed with her deduction. "Correct. Arishok govern the soliders, Arigena govern the craftsman, and Ariqun govern the priesthood. As Arishok, I am the leader and highest ranking general of the Antaam, what you would call the military of our people."

"And you were assigned this role since birth?" Hawke asked.

"Assigned to the Antaam," the Arishok corrected. "We are free to choose within our roles, and I sought a higher purpose within."

It was becoming clear to her as he spoke, that the Qunari philosophy and way of life was nearly as interesting and intriguing as her curiosity had been about him personally. Being raised a warrior, taught to protect and serve her family, Hawke was familiar with having a purpose. But now that only her mother remained, her 'role' as the Arishok would've put it, was changing. Which brought uncertainty. She found herself suddenly envious that he did not suffer in the same way.

Hawke hadn't realized during her contemplation that she'd stifled a yawn, but the Arishok did. When he stood, he startled her out of her thoughts. "It is late," he stated.

She took that as his not so subtle attempt to get rid of her. Following his lead she stood as well, but in her exhaustion from the days events she stumbled and nearly fell. A firm hand gripped her arm to steady her. "Thank you," Hawke said, and then apologized. "I've kept you long enough, but if you don't mind, after I've had some rest I would like to return and continue our discussion."

"You will remain here," the Arishok informed her. "In your weakened condition you are not fit to return home at this hour."

Nervous fluttering returned to her stomach. "That's kind of you, but I'll be alright. I have a friend in Lowtown I can stay with."

"I insist," he countered, in a tone that was clear he was not going to take no for an answer.

After another yawn escaped unwillingly from her lips, her eyes began to water, and Hawke knew remaining was probably the safer choice. "Alright, but I will not put you out or anything. I can sleep on the ground as well as the next person."

The Arishok walked to the corner of the compound and opened one of several large chests that aligned the walls. Retrieving a bedroll, he tossed it in her direction and then retreated to his throne, where he picked up a book and began silently reading.

 _I guess this is goodnight then,_ Hawke thought to herself as she spread out the bedroll near the fire. She thought that there would be some difficulty sleeping in something other than her bed at home, but the moment she closed her eyes, she drifted into the Fade. And as in life, the Arishok filled her mind... and her heart.


	6. The Lost Patrol

**Chapter Title: The Lost Patrol**  
 **Written by: LucienGrey, FenZev, & Wintryone**  
 **Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Hawke's friends grow increasingly concerned as her Qunari involvement deepens, and more Chantry corruption is exposed.**

* * *

Hawke was dreaming another vivid dream of the Arishok, as she did nearly every night, his rhythmic grunts inciting her body in a way no one ever had before. She shifted, trying to get closer to him, and... slipped off the bedroll onto the cold stone of the compound floor.

Groggily, she lifted up onto her elbows, peering through sleep-filled eyes. Though she was awake the sound of grunting continued, joined by the sound of metal striking metal.

What was that?

The Arishok's throne was empty of its owner, so she cautiously rose to her feet and followed the sounds that had so enticingly blended with her dreams.

There, on the raised platform to the left of the gates, were six Qunari warriors, their chests bare except for the ruby-colored war paint, which glistened with sweat in the early morning light. She watched, fascinated, as they performed what seemed a set of ritual maneuvers; weapons clashed, before rising into the air in a series of synchronized moves. With each change in position, the warriors let forth a deep-throated grunt, which caused her stomach to tighten in anticipation of... something.

It was mesmerizing the way their muscles and sinews rippled with their precisely choreographed movements, and so she was unaware of the large figure that approached her from behind.

"Hawke," said the Arishok in his rumbling voice, nearly causing her to jump out of her own skin.

His shadow in front of her grew as he walked closer behind her and, with her back to him, she rubbed her eyes quickly to rid herself of post sleep embarrassment. Keeping her voice to a whisper so as not to disturb the drill, she asked the Arishok about the patrol in front of them. "What are they doing?"

"Each division of the Antaam create their own series of controlled movements," the Arishok explained. "It is done to not only calm the mind, but to come together as one. It allows them to think and act as one being no matter what the circumstance. This division performs out of respect for the Qunoran Vehl."

Hawke turned her head to look over her shoulder in his direction. "Qunoran Vehl?" she inquired.

"Those who have died honorably while performing their role within the Qun," the Arishok translated for her.

"The delegates," Hawke stated, looking back toward the throne platform. "You don't join them?"

"No," he replied. "As their Arishok, I am not part of their division. To join them would be to disrespect their unity."

Hawke nodded, but said nothing further on the matter. She and the Arishok continued to watch the six Qunari in silence until they were finished with their routine.

Once the soldiers left the platform and retreated below the compound, Hawke gathered her bedroll and returned it to the chest from where the Arishok had retrieved it. He had returned to his throne, burying his nose in the same book as the previous evening, and Hawke decided now was as good a time as any to take her leave.

"Thank you," she said. "For your hospitality and your patience with my questions, both this morning and last night."

The Arishok acknowledged her statement with a slight bow of his head. "Panahedan, Hawke."

Upon leaving the compound, Hawke was stopped by the guard at the gate. As if learning her name from hearing the Arishok say it, he asked, "You are Hawke?"

Turning to see if the Arishok was paying attention, and almost disappointed that he wasn't, Hawke nodded. "I am."

Crossing his arms, the guard looked at her with an accusatory glance. "A patrol went missing along the Wounded Coast. You have fought Qunari before and triumphed; Arvaarad no less. So tell me, did you kill them?"

"Wow," she uttered with surprise. "You don't beat around the bush do you?"

"No," he replied.

Hawke was beginning to wonder if all of the Qunari spoke in this tone. "If I did kill them, why would I tell you? You'd just attack me."

"You admitted to the Arishok when you killed Tal-Vashoth and the Arvaarad," he stated. "Why would you not? But I seek an answer to a question: what has happened to the missing Karataam? Vengeance is not relevant to this task."

"Good point," Hawke admitted. "Though I haven't killed any Qunari, recently anyway, that could change if you accuse me every time one of your Karataam goes missing."

He appeared to accept her answer. "If you are not responsible, then I waste my time here."

Hawke watched as the guard retreated into the compound, and noticed that the Arishok was now looking at her. That same near smirk reached his eyes that she had seen once before; if this was a test, apparently she passed. She was curious about what happened to the Karataam however, concerned it may be the work of more zealots or Mother Petrice. She vowed to look into it herself, after seeing Fenris to retrieve her sword.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

When Hawke entered Fenris' room on the top floor of his borrowed mansion, she was surprised to see Varric there too, seated before the fire chatting with the elf. She'd only wanted her sword but, from the expressions on their serious faces, she was afraid she was in for an interrogation. Even Varric was slightly frowning, which gave Hawke pause more than anything else.

Never one to shy away from what was on her mind, she cut right to the chase. "What's this about?" Hawke asked, taking a seat on the wooden bench.

"Hello to you, too, Hawke," said Varric, doing his best to resume his normally cheerful countenance.

"You've been talking about me," she stated succinctly. "Why?"

Varric squirmed, but Fenris just looked at her with measured eyes. "Yes," drawled Fenris. "We have. And now would like to talk _with_ you. Will you listen?"

"Do I have a choice?" she asked. She had the uncomfortable feeling she knew what this was about.

"You always have a choice, Hawke," piped in Varric. "The trick is to make the right one."

Hawke looked from one to the other, considering them. She'd known them both a long time now, and they had proven to be good and loyal friends. Even if she was pretty sure she wouldn't like what they had to say, they deserved her attention. "Go on," she said.

The elf and the dwarf shared a glance, and then Varric spoke. "After what happened with the Qunari delegates I started poking around. I thought we needed some answers as to why the Chantry would be so lax in controlling their so called 'fringe' elements."

It was true; Hawke had been concerned about that herself. But with everything else going on, she really hadn't had the time to look into it. Her curiosity piqued, she asked, "What do you know?"

Varric sighed. "It isn't a pretty picture, Hawke." He scratched the top of his head and shifted in his seat. "Before Dumar, the Viscount here was a guy named Perrin - Perrin Threnhold to be exact."

The name seemed vaguely familiar, but she could retrieve no memories of the former Viscount.

Varric went on, "Unlike our current leader, Perrin ruled Kirkwall his own way. Some called him a tyrant, but others were impressed with his strength. His idea was to turn Kirkwall into a prosperous city of commerce, but... it didn't work out, obviously."

"What happened?" Hawke prompted.

"Bloody fool tried to go up against the Chantry, and have every single Templar expelled from the Gallows. Even had Knight Commander Guylian executed in the attempt."

"Why would he do such a thing?" For a moment Hawke tried to imagine what Kirkwall would be like without a Gallows filled with Templars, but she couldn't do it.

"Too much power," said Varric. "Just like now, if you think about it. After Perrin had Guylian killed, well, that's when Meredith made her move. She was the new Knight Commander, and the first thing she did was storm the Keep and arrest Perrin."

"How is this not common knowledge?"

"It is, if you know who to ask," replied Varric. "Anyway, Grand Cleric Elthina had Perrin thrown in the dungeons - left him there to rot for all intents and purposes. But, a couple of years later, Perrin died under mysterious circumstances."

"Mysterious in what way?" asked Hawke. She was liking the sound of this history lesson less and less.

"Poison, and the culprit was never caught," Varric replied. "There was a lot of talk after that about allowing the nobles to choose their new Viscount, as was their right. Instead? The Chantry chose Dumar, which basically means Elthina chose him - chose someone who was good at ass kissing, and wouldn't buck her power over the city." Varric shook his head. "I almost feel sorry for the guy, caught between the Chantry, the Gallows, the Qunari and the nobles."

"What you're saying would be considered treason in some quarters," said Hawke. She was trying to gather her thoughts, and wrap her head around everything Varric had just told her. "I knew there were corrupt elements in the Chantry, but from what you've said…"

"It's rotten from the bottom to the very top," agreed Varric. "It makes you wonder just how ignorant Elthina is about Petrice's little games to incite the people against the Qunari."

"Indeed," said Hawke, her head still swimming. Elthina presented herself as a woman of peace, someone who completely gave her life and her will over to the Maker. To find that she was just as devious and complicit in the nasty political games going on in Kirkwall….

"One more thing, Hawke," said Varric.

"There's more?" she questioned.

"Rumor is Petrice was not disciplined, or even censured, for her little role in the murdered Qunari delegates," he said. "One could go so far as to wonder if her promotion to Mother was a reward for what happened with the Saarebas. It's a dangerous game we're mixed up in."

Hawke considered the information. "Sounds like a visit with the Grand Cleric is in order," she mused. "And perhaps Cullen can shed some light on Meredith's stance on the Qunari. You're implying Elthina and Meredith have worked in unison since putting Dumar in office; let's see if the Chantry and the Templars are still on the same page. Wouldn't that prove something?"

"It would prove," said Varric, "that we're deep in the shit."

Despite herself, Hawke laughed. "True," she said. "No wonder the Arishok is tempted to _sift through the rubble_ of Kirkwall. I'm tempted myself."

"Unfortunately," Fenris finally spoke, "Chantry corruption is not the only dangerous aspect of this game, Hawke."

Hawke looked at Fenris, and that same concern she'd been noticing more and more was apparent in his eyes. _Here it comes,_ she thought. "Just say what's on your mind, Fenris."

She thought she saw the briefest of smiles cross his lips before he began. Hawke understood - their continued candor with each other pleased her, too.

"I feel a word of caution is in order," Fenris said. "By spending the night at the compound..."

"What?" Varric interjected, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. "Hawke, are you out of your mind?"

"I was tired," said Hawke, turning to Varric. "The Arishok insisted. Was I supposed to get your permission first, Varric?"

Before Varric could respond, Fenris broke in. "By spending the night at the compound," he repeated, "you've essentially allied yourself with the Qunari in the eyes of many."

"The Chantry, you mean?" she asked Fenris.

"The Arishok as well," he replied. "I learned much of the Qun during my time in Seheron. Your actions of late will lead the Arishok to assume you are beginning to accept his authority, his command... over you."

"Me? I've taken no oath of allegiance to the Qun," she replied, somewhat stunned by his words.

"The Qunari believe that it is every individual's choice to act according to their _true nature_ , as it were. Your choices will have certainly impressed the Arishok as honorable and in alignment with the Qun." Fenris paused, and his expressive eyes spoke volumes. "Asit-tal-eb. _It is to be._ The Arikshok may already consider you as _viddthari_."

"Viddathari?" she questioned.

"A convert to the Qun," Fenris replied.

"Hawke," Varric said, and although he was chuckling in that way he had, Hawke could hear the underlying panic, too. "You wouldn't really do that, would you? Convert, I mean."

Hawke didn't answer him immediately. The rapid pounding of her heart, her suddenly dry mouth, and the tingling in her fingers all combined to make her suddenly feel very much _alive_. Was it fear? Or excitement at the prospect? For a moment, she was overwhelmed by these disparate feelings, and could only struggle to maintain her outward composure.

"Hawke?" Varric asked again.

"I've got to go," she said, knowing that she needed to sort through her own thoughts before she spoke to these two anymore. "Thanks for taking care of my sword, Fenris." She rose from her seat and strode purposefully to the door. "I'll see you later."

Both elf and dwarf knew better than to interfere with her choice to leave, and she wasted no time exiting the mansion.

As she made her way down the broad granite steps toward the Chantry Courtyard, Hawke did what she always did when she was troubled. She pushed her doubts aside and focused on the task at hand.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

No matter how many times Hawke found herself in the Chantry, the strong scent of incense never failed to overwhelm her. Allowing a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimly candle-lit hall, she scanned the area for Elthina. The Grand Cleric stood on the first tier platform, engaged in conversation with Sebastian. Hawke sighed as she willed her legs to move in their direction, hoping, praying to the Maker, that Varric was wrong about the woman. She didn't want him to be proven correct, especially in front of one so loyal as Sebastian.

"Hawke," Sebastian greeted her as she ascended the stairs. "We were just talking about you."

An awkward smile reached her lips as she darted her gaze between the two of them. "Really? Should I be concerned?"

"This business with the Qunari delegates has everyone on edge," Elthina replied, bowing her head. "Kirkwall is lucky you were there to intervene on Her behalf."

Hawke was beginning to wonder just how many in the city knew of her involvement with the Qunari. Perhaps Fenris was right. "I came seeking Sebastian's aid," Hawke informed the two of them. "But since you brought up the Qunari, I admit I am curious. What is the Chantry's stance on the Qunari presence here?"

Sebastian appeared just as interested in her response as Hawke was, and Elthina informed them both, "Would it help anything for us to get involved?" she asked rhetorically. "Or is it more likely to light the kindling? If the Qunari act against us, the Templars will defend Kirkwall. Otherwise, we guard ourselves best by waiting."

Varric's words echoed in her mind, ' _rotten from the bottom to the very top'._ Hawke knew she didn't do a well enough job of hiding her disgusted expression. Wanting to leave without inciting an argument, she turned to Sebastian. "Can you help me today?"

"Of course," Sebastian responded. "Allow me to retrieve my bow."

Elthina waited for Sebastian to leave before addressing Hawke again. "You disapprove of me," Elthina stated more than asked, though her expression closely resembled concern. "Do you think I should send the Templars against the Qunari, perhaps? Welcome them with open arms? How about destroy the mages? Or set them free? There are many strong opinions in this city, child, and it is not my place to decide who is right."

"Nor is it your place to allow others to decide for you," Hawke stated. "Or turn a blind eye when they do so. Are you even aware that someone used the authority of your name to instigate a crime against the Qunari? The very delegates you mentioned earlier were murdered, some would say with your permission."

Elthina sighed. "The path to righteousness is never as straight and narrow as we wish. I truly hoped this would not go so far. But do not trouble yourself. I will step in, when it's time."

"So then you knew it was a possibility? While you've been waiting for the right time to 'step in,' Qunari have died," Hawke stated, her anger at the older woman boiling her blood. When Elthina didn't respond, Hawke knew she had to leave, immediately, before the violence within her found an easy target in the Grand Cleric. "Just get out of my way," she said, nearly knocking the woman down as she pushed past her to leave the platform.

Sebastian was waiting for her by the front hall, and Hawke nearly walked right past him without noticing. "Hawke?" he called to her, curious what had happened in the few minutes he was gone.

She took a deep breath to calm herself. There was no need to drag Sebastian into this; he loved and respected Elthina, and as much as Hawke may despise the woman right now, she wasn't in the business of hurting those she considered a friend. Forcing a smile upon her face, she turned to Sebastian. "Ready? Quick trip to the Wounded Coast is all, if you're up for it."

Sebastian knew better than to pry, so he made no mention of Hawke's sudden change in attitude. "I am. Fighting with you is always much more exciting than the Chantry," he said with a wink.

As they proceeded to the main doors of the Chantry, Hawke saw the one person whom she would rather have avoided. Not now, not after Elthina. Yet, in the interest of knowing her enemies, she allowed her voice to ring out. "Hello, _Mother_ Petrice."

The woman turned to Hawke, and with a supercilious look upon her simian face, replied, "Serah Hawke, it is good to see you." She walked the few steps between them and viewed Hawke with a measured eye. "The shame that Varnell brought his order is most unfortunate. Praise the Maker that you were his champion in that dark place."

Hawke could barely tolerate the hypocrisy of this woman. She didn't even try to control her derision as she said, "No thanks to you, and you know it."

"I gave you Varnell," insisted Petrice, as if the life of one Templar made up for everything she'd done, and all the innocent Qunari lives that had been lost.

"And a room full of zealots," Hawke flung back. She could feel Sebastian stirring beside her, clearly uncomfortable with such a confrontation within these hallowed halls.

"He recruited them with the promise of Chantry blessing," said Petrice, disdainfully. "You weren't going to argue them out of salvation. Varnell stepped too far. But the faithful know that eternity is at stake - though there are, perhaps, better ways to go about it."

"I can't let this go that easy," Hawke told her. She held her temper for Sebastian's sake, but she would make sure Petrice was clear where she stood. And with whom.

"Then we are destined to have this argument again. For now, I have made no criminal claims, and even your Viscount considers this matter closed. If he is good at anything, it is doing nothing," she replied, and turned, as if to dismiss Hawke from her sight. Before she moved through the open doorway, she gazed back over her shoulder and added, "I hope you live a long life, Serah Hawke, because your judgment before the Maker will be harsh."

"Hawke," Sebastian began, wanting to inquire as to what exactly was going on. First Elthina had obviously upset her, and now Petrice?

"Let's just get out of here," Hawke interrupted, and wasted no time leading them from the Chantry.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Walking along the Wounded Coast was good for her nerves, and Hawke felt herself calming as she listened to the waves of the Waking Sea crash against the reefs below. There was something soothing about the force with which the water hit the rocks; odd that she'd find comfort in a seemingly violent act of nature. But it was peaceful, even if only for a moment.

"So," Isabela spoke up from behind her, breaking the silence. "I heard the most delicious story."

Hawke remained quiet, hoping that if no one responded to the pirate she'd stop speaking. But this was Isabela, and it wasn't very likely that she'd hold her tongue.

"Is it true that you spent the entire evening with the Qunari?" Isabela asked.

Flames, that blasted dwarf. Couldn't he keep his mouth shut about anything? "Exactly how did you hear about this? Foolish question, I know, a short man with massive chest hair must have been flapping his lips again."

Isabela took a few long strides to squeeze in between Hawke and Sebastian as they walked. "You'll never guess who had a sleepover at the compound last night," Isabela said, using her best impersonation of Varric. "And who survived the night to tell the tale!"

"Maker, how does he do it?" Hawke wondered aloud. "I only left him to go to the Chantry, and in that time Varric managed to make it back to the Hanged Man and tell you this?"

"Wait a minute," Sebastian interrupted, realization clear in his expression. "You spent the evening... with the Qunari?"

Hawke was thankful Merrill had wandered off to pick some flowers, as the elf's added input on her personal affairs would've been too much. She stopped walking and addressed the two of them. "What I do in my own time, is my own business. And while I'm sure your concern, well, at least Sebastian's concern, comes from having my back and being my friend, I would appreciate it if you would both just drop it."

"I'm sorry, Hawke, if I've offended you," Sebastian said. "I assure you, it is only out of concern for you that I inquire."

"Yeah, right," Isabela responded. "We all know how much the Chantry loves the Qunari."

 _Thank you, Varric_ , Hawke thought, wishing she had brought the dwarf along so she could strangle him. "That's enough, Isabela. We all know you have no love for the Qunari either, the way you run off every time we even step near the compound."

Isabela didn't appear phased at all at Hawke's harsh tone. "All that grey skin and war paint clashes with my complexion," she said with a shrug, before walking on ahead of them.

"Be careful, Hawke," Sebastian said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I'll say nothing further."

"Thank you, Sebastian," Hawke replied.

She was about to say more, but Isabela's shout in the distant caught their attention. "I think I found your missing Qunari!"

They ran to catch up with her, and were met with several shades and an abomination, gathered together in a circle, as if the demons had been waiting for them. Isabela quickly dropped a flask to stun them as she drifted into the shadows, only to return and stab one of the shades fiercely in its back.

Hawke immediately went on the offensive, taunting the large group to gain their attention. It worked, because they crowded around her, striking out with stunted arms, but she could feel the magical damage weakening her. Arrows rained down around them as Sebastian targeted the circle of enemies and, true to his skill, not one arrow came close to hitting Hawke. It was just the help Hawke needed, and she swung her longsword in a massive arc, which scattered the Shades, making them easier for Isabela to pick off.

Merrill assisted Sebastian with ranged attacks on the shades, as Isabela spun her blades to finish the last of them off. Hawke was then free to focus her energy on the remaining abomination, and soon all within the area were defeated.

Including the Qunari.

After the dust settled, Hawke knelt beside one of the bodies for further inspection. Judging by the purple bruises on their smooth, grey skin, these men were met by more than demons from the Fade before they fell. Her anger subsided into sadness as she turned her head to see three more men - all of them suffered the same tragic fate. Clearly an act of racial violence, and it took all of her will to overcome the waves of nausea that threatened to consume her.

"Why do you think demons would hate the Qunari?" Merrill asked as she studied the gruesome scene. "Do you think it's because they sew their mages' lips shut? That would make me angry if they..."

"Merrill, please," Hawke said. The Dalish elf was giving her a headache. "Ask the ones who summoned them, if you really want to know." She retrieved the Qunari's sword before standing. "This is why I stayed at the compound. This is why they have my support. They are hunted and killed without provocation, and I am sick to death of it."

The three watched as she gathered the remaining swords and stormed off. None of them dared to follow.


	7. All That Remains

**Chapter Title: All That Remains**  
 **Written by: FenZev, Wintryone, & LucienGrey **  
**Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Hawke's world continues to crumble, and help is found in the most unlikely of places.**

* * *

Four swords. All that was left of the ambushed Karataam.

Hawke carried the weapons back to the Qunari compound herself. She allowed no one to help her, welcoming the sting in her biceps and the dull throb in her lower back. The physical exertion allowed her to work off the hot anger roiling in her breast. The pain in her body reminded Hawke she was _alive_ , and with that life she could honor the fallen warriors.

She could honor the Qun.

When she reached the compound gates the same Qunari was there, the one who had practically accused her of killing the Karataam. She said nothing, only stood silent and still, the blades cradled in her nearly numb arms.

Instead of questioning her, or merely taking the swords from her as he had done previously, he turned and opened the gate before stepping aside for Hawke to enter. She felt the respect of his gesture – an invitation for her to return them to the Arishok herself.

A few moments later, when the Qunari leader lifted them from her arms and thanked her in his concise way, an unexpected feeling of acceptance came over her. Was this what it was like to truly be a part of something greater than yourself? Hawke was awed that they'd allowed her to fulfill this role that should only belong to someone of the Qun. It hit her then, that she was beginning to feel more accepted, more at home with these foreign people, than she ever had among those she called friends.

When she left the compound, some of her anger finally subsided, Hawke wanted nothing more than to seek the further solace of sleep. Yet, she'd made a promise to Emeric, the Templar who'd been investigating Kirkwall's missing women over the years. Hawke remembered the sack of bones she'd retrieved from the foundry and shuddered. Did such things ever happen among the Qunari? She still had so many questions…

Both Fenris and Anders had agreed to meet her and Varric at the Hanged Man, and from there they would investigate the Hightown Mansion of Gascard Dupuis.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

"He cut me." Alessa's words rang through Hawke's head as she made her way to the Gallows to report Gascard's death to Emeric. The man had been a blood mage, and clearly had lied when he said he was only looking for the murderer of his sister. Deceit had come off of him in waves, and Alessa's terror of him sealed his fate. They'd fought their way through scores of demons until finally Hawke had run Dupuis through with her own blade. A satisfying moment.

Yet when she reached the Gallows, Emeric wasn't there. A Templar named Moira told her the older Templar had gone to meet Hawke in Lowtown, presumably at Hawke's request. Moira even had a note – one that Hawke had never written.

When Hawke reached the abandoned alley, and saw Emeric's dead body laying at the feet of that demon, she couldn't help but question her decision to kill Dupuis. The situation had become so convoluted, she didn't know what to think anymore. The only thing she was sure of was there remained a killer on the loose, hidden somewhere in the vast labyrinth of Kirkwall's streets.

Unfortunately, her day was not yet done.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


Hawke entered the Keep in search of Aveline to let her know what had happened with Emeric and Dupuis. When the guard captain had asked her to investigate Emeric's continued claims, Hawke doubted she could have foreseen an end such as this. Advising Aveline that she was wrong about the Templar's suspicions could very well lead to an argument Hawke had no interest in engaging at present.

She had bigger problems to deal with, such as Petrice and her anti-Qunari minions. The Kirkwall City Guard should conclude this investigation.

Walking toward Aveline's office, Hawke was stopped by Saemus Dumar. She hadn't seen the boy since the rescue on the coast, and it surprised her she hadn't thought to speak with him sooner, given his relationship with the grey-skinned people.

"You're here rather often, Serah Hawke," Saemus said when he approached her. "This is the first time I've been able to catch you alone, however. I wanted to say I'm sorry I never found the opportunity to formally thank you for what happened with the Winters a few years back."

"No need," Hawke insisted. "But if you have a minute, I wouldn't mind asking you a few questions."

"By all means," Saemus replied, gesturing for her to walk with him to the corner of the Keep, out of earshot of the loitering nobles.

Hawke followed his lead, understanding his need for privacy being the viscount's son, but curious if the two of them conversing in a dark corner would bring unwanted suspicion. "Still under the watchful eye of your father I take it?"

Saemus nodded. "His and every other busybody in Kirkwall. I still accept no blame for defending Qunari, nor do I miss the kinship of those that oppose what I believe. But my father is who he is, and I am making the effort not to shame him or burden the position he is in."

"That's kind of you," Hawke remarked. "Though when we last met, you were adamant in your beliefs. Is the office of the Viscount the only reason for your hesitation?"

"I fear I may have brought the Qunari more trouble than they had expected," Saemus told her. "My association with them has some questioning where my father, the Chantry, and the Knight-Commander stand on their continued presence here. If distancing myself from the Qunari can eliminate some of the strain they've been under as of late, then I'll gladly do so."

Hawke tilted her head thoughtfully at the boy. "You've really grown attached to them, haven't you?" she asked.

"Many of their ideas are... compelling, to say the least," Saemus admitted. "Though from what I hear, you've become quite a champion to their cause yourself."

"I don't know about that," Hawke said, not entirely surprised that Saemus was aware of her involvement with the Qunari. "I'm merely trying to ensure that injustice doesn't befall them at every turn because of the blind eye of those in power."

Saemus smiled. "Then you already treat them with more grace than most. While my hands are tied in this matter, I'm glad they have you looking out for them. Perhaps it'll give those zealots pause, to know someone respects the Qunari enough to interfere, and even defend."

"Saemus, I don't mean to pry into the relationship you have with your father, but have you tried talking to him? Maker knows I have, but he won't listen to me," Hawke said. "Surely he sees by summoning me in secret to assist whenever a problem arises with the Qunari, he's not making a firm declaration that the ruler of this city will not tolerate such hateful actions. I can only do so much; his is the voice the people of Kirkwall will listen to."

"Unfortunately, Hawke, you are mistaken," Saemus said. "You give my father too much credit when it comes to the nobility of this city. I know you haven't been in Hightown long, but the people here do what the Chantry wishes. It is the Grand Cleric's silence that is hurting the Qunari, not my father."

Hawke released a heavy sigh. "Then I fear for their continued safety in Kirkwall," she admitted.

"As do I," Saemus agreed. He turned when the front door of the Keep opened, and Seneschal Bran glanced in their direction with a scowl on his face. "And that's my cue to leave. Good luck, Hawke. May your efforts bring the Qunari the peace they deserve."

She watched as Saemus reluctantly walked away, and spared a glance at Bran. He didn't bother to stop and address her, but his expression was clear; speaking with Saemus publicly was ill-advised, and he'd be reporting this incident to the viscount.

Hawke wasn't afraid of his silent threats, however. She made her way through the Keep towards Aveline's office, but not before loudly wishing the seneschal a good day. The viscount, his lackey, and even his son may have issues with speaking to her in public, but Hawke wasn't going to play their political game of pretending she didn't know any of them.

His pursed lips let her know that she had won this time.

Aveline walked briskly up the stairs to the main floor of the Keep, nearly colliding with Hawke at the top of the steps. "Watch where you're going!" she exclaimed, before realizing it was her friend she'd almost toppled over.

"Hello to you, too, Aveline," Hawke stated as the guard captain grabbed her arm and continued walking.

"I've just received reports of a commotion at your estate," Aveline informed her. "I assumed it was just you getting into trouble again, but that you're here means something else is going on. Let's go."

Hawke pulled her arm away from Aveline. "It's probably just Gamlen drunk and belligerent again, yelling at Mother. No need for the urgent pace."

"You're probably right," Aveline said, though she didn't slow down. "But if I get one more complaint from the nobles about the fighting that takes place near your home, I'm going to start posting a guard to keep an eye on things."

Hawke didn't bother with a reply. Instead she prepared herself for another battle of getting her obnoxious uncle home.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


Hawke arrived home to find Gamlen arguing with Sandal, of all people. Leandra was missing, Gamlen insisted, but Bodahn informed him she was merely out with her suitor. Hawke was ready to dismiss Gamlen from her home, yet again, when she noticed the white lilies sitting on the table. Her blood ran cold, and she informed the others about what Dupuis had told her - that the women who received that particular flower ended up dead, by the same killer she'd been hunting. Aveline agreed to begin the search with Hawke, starting in Lowtown as Bodhan suggested.

"If she's really missing," said Aveline, "it's my job to find her."

"Wasn't it your job to help Emeric find the killer?" Hawke snapped at her friend.

"Hawke..."

"Don't, just don't," Hawke cut her off. They needed to find Mother, and pointless bickering would not help.

In the confusion Gamlen had left the estate, and had beaten her and Aveline to Lowtown. _Blasted sneak_ , she thought. He was talking to a young boy who'd seen her mother with a strange man.

"His hands were all bloody," the boy said. "He almost fell over. It was funny." He'd then shown them the trail of blood the man had left as Leandra had helped him away. Hawke grabbed Varric and Anders from the Hanged Man and, her heart beating hard in her chest, followed the diabolic trail.

 _Blood is supposed to be red,_ Hawke thought wildly, but the spatters of color they followed looked like blotches of tar, which marred the foul floor of the foundry.

"We've been here before," Varric said inanely, and she could have punched him for his calm tone.

"We've got to find her," Hawke insisted, and raced up the stairway. In her haste, her foot slipped in the sticky stuff and she grabbed the railing to keep her balance.

"Careful, Hawke," said Aveline. "You won't help your mother if you break your leg."

How were they all so calm, when she could barely hold in the scream she felt building in her chest? Ignoring Aveline, she continued her frantic pace, trying to hold onto the fact that the urchin had said the blood belonged to the man. Hawke fought another wave of panic as she tried to picture the monster who had stolen her mother away from her. If not DuPuis, who was he?

A mantra formed in her head. _It's not mother's blood, it's not mother's blood…_ Leandra would be unharmed, and Hawke would find her and take her from this wretched place.

"This wasn't here before," Hawke blurted when she saw the trap door in the floor. She didn't hesitate, but wrenched open the rotting wood and descended down a rickety ladder into the darkness below, the others close behind her. A sickening, cloying odor washed over her as she turned a corner into a large, open space.

A body. A still and lifeless form lying on a table with its back to them. Hawke felt the bile rise in her throat as she ran to the dead woman and turned her over.

"Alessa!" she cried in relief. But there was something wrong… The woman, she was…

"By the Void," breathed Anders. "Where are her hands?"

Hawke tore her eyes away from the ragged, bloody stumps and swallowed hard. "If that monster has hurt my mother…"

"Let's go, Hawke," said Varric, and pulled her away from the gruesome scene.

They came upon another room filled with more normal things and, in this awful place, the bed and bookshelves and dressers seemed eerie and ominous. It was if a lovely bedroom had been created in the bowels of the Void itself. Then Hawke saw the portrait on the wall.

Her mother's face, a kind smile on her lips, looked down upon her. Hawke's skin began to crawl.

"Why?" Hawke tried to say, but the words stuck in her throat.

"It looks like a shrine," said Anders. "To a wife? A sister?"

"This shit is getting creepy," added Varric.

"Hawke," Aveline called for her attention. She gestured to the books and papers scattered across the floor.

Necromancy, blood magic… the most abominable of the magical arts. She found a letter addressed to _Quentin_ , and now the monster had a name. If he had touched one hair on her mother's head… Hawke shook herself. He was a dead man either way.

"Where is she?" Hawke croaked. She turned to her companions, and this time her voice was a guttural growl. "Where is she?"

The three silently closed ranks around her and led her down another passage. Her will to move seemed to have been stolen by the face of her mother staring down at her so serenely. As they approached another set of stairs leading further down into this vile place, a glint of light caught Hawke's eye.

"Mother's locket," she said, as she knelt to retrieve the glimmering bit of gold. She closed her fingers around it, and she thought she could feel the warmth of her mother's skin radiate through her palm. Something about holding it in her hand, this small thing that Leandra had treasured so dearly, broke through Hawke's fear and hardened her resolve. "She would not part with this willingly," Hawke said, her voice now under her control again. At last, her steps were sure and steady as she lead them down another dark passage and a final set of stairs.

From the shadows of the cavernous room below them, an unholy voice echoed. "Leandra said you would come for her."

It was the voice of a madman, Hawke knew without doubt. She could feel his insanity in each syllable he spoke. "You will never understand," he went on. "I have touched the face of the Maker and _lived_!"

Hawke blocked out the evil voice, and focused on the shadows, searching for her mother. When he mentioned Alessa and Ninnette, however, her eyes snapped back to him.

"Spare me the demented rambling," Hawke bit out. "Where is she?"

"She is here," Quentin said, his lunatic voice cool and nonchalant.

Hawke watched in horror as Quentin turned and held out his arms. There was her mother, staggering toward her, as if she were no more than a puppet on a string. Her once beautiful eyes were milky white, as dead and lifeless as… as Bethany's tainted eyes had been. Pain, sharp and hot, sliced through Hawke's chest. She took a single step forward, one hand lifted toward her mother.

She was so focused on the monstrosity of Leandra's pale, stitched skin and the jagged, oozing line that slashed her throat that when Anders shouted, "Bastards torn the veil!" she jumped.

The demons erupted from the floor as Quentin slit his wrist, and she felt the pull of that dark magic inside her, a devouring thing that craved her life and would consume her soul. She pushed aside all emotion and threw herself into the fight - her only goal to make her way through the demons and get to her mother.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


Later that night, as Hawke sat in a chair by the fireplace alone, the scene below the foundry played out in her mind in an endless litany of dread.

"I knew you would come for me," Leandra had said, as Hawke cradled her dying mother in her arms.

Yes, Hawke had come, but too late to save the last of her family. Too late to save the last person she truly loved.

And her mother's broken, whispered words, "My little girl has become so strong."

Tears threatened but did not come. They stung her eyes and her throat, but she would not let them fall. If she released this iron grip on herself, Hawke didn't think she could hold onto her own sanity.

What did strength matter if you could not protect those dearest to you? The cruel way her mother had died… the ghastly picture in her mind of Leandra's dead eyes - dead long before she'd taken her last breath. Had she even seen Hawke as she'd spoken her final words?

Hawke had killed Quentin, yes. Yet she had felt no satisfaction from revenge enacted - no comfort that her mother's killer was dead.

Leandra's voice continued to echo through her mind. "You've always made me so proud."

Hawke bit down hard on her lower lip and tasted blood. What pride could her mother have ever had in her reckless, headstrong child? How could she be proud of someone who'd allowed the death of her son and had led her dearest daughter under the dark earth to a place that would end as her tomb? Her mother's last words haunted her because they were a lie.

Hawke had taken her uncles' abuse without complaint. Gamlen's selfish need to lay blame at her feet had not been surprising. In fact, Hawke had welcomed his anger, because she knew she deserved it. She deserved much worse for what she'd done… what she had not done. The burning pain in her breast became a firestorm of grief.

When Gamlen had left her she'd had the sudden, hollow feeling that she would not see him again. Death was her only companion now in this empty mansion, and her still beating heart felt like a lead weight in her chest. Molten, burning lead that leaked from her heart and bled into her veins.

Where was succor? Where was release? How could she be expected to carry this weight of guilt and sorrow for the rest of her life? When Father had died, she'd still had a family to cling to. She'd promised him that she would protect them, take care of them, and she'd taken her grief and used it as fuel - had taken on her role of guardian with grim determination. With her family to safeguard, there remained a purpose in her life – a reason to be strong. But now? That purpose had been violently ripped from her with each new loss. Carver's bruised and bloody face, Bethany's sad voice as she'd said, "You'll take care of it, sis, won't you?" Mother's soothing lies as she'd taken her last breath.

She was alone now. Alone in a way she'd never been before.

As she sat staring at the dying embers of the fire, an image arose in Hawke's mind. This time it wasn't Leandra disfigured face. It wasn't Carver's broken body. It wasn't even Bethany's tainted visage.

It was him. It was the Arishok. His strength. His surety and purpose, and his calm acceptance of the deaths of his soldiers. What did the Qun provide that made such a thing possible? Hawke felt as if her insides were being eviscerated, and that each breath she took was an abomination in the face of those she loved who breathed no longer. There must be relief somewhere from this clawing pain.

Hawke's gaze rested on her sword, and a new image arose in her mind. She saw herself lifting it, with its honed blade pointed at her chest. She nearly felt the thrust and the hot pain as the ghostly image of herself pushed it through her flesh and bone with the last of her strength. Pushed it into the well of hurt and obliterated it once and for all. She could be with her family again, she could leave behind this suffering world and rejoin those she loved the most.

It wasn't until she actually had the blade in her hands that she realized what she was doing. And in a moment of startling clarity, she again saw his face. She heard his voice. The Arishok telling her, "I do not hope you die."

No longer thinking, now acting purely on instinct, Hawke sheathed her weapon and left the estate. She had no idea what she expected to find at the compound, only that she must go there.

And Maker help anyone who got in her way.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


Wobbly legs carried Hawke to the compound, threatening to seize under the weight of the grief they carried. No one dared to approach her as she walked through Hightown, Lowtown, and then the docks. Even a gang of thieves thinking to score some easy gold backed away when she looked in their direction. Her eyes said it all; you will die if you try.

Normally by this time of night there was no admittance into the compound. But the guard took one look at Hawke, her armor still stained with blood, hair unusually unkempt, and opened the gate without a word. She made her way through the courtyard to the Arishok's usual position, ignoring the suspicious glares of the Qunari that began closing in behind her.

The Arishok stood; he too was curious as to why she was in such a state. "Hawke," he said as he descended the stairs. "The hour is late."

"I'm sorry," she said, unsure of what she was going to say to him. She had come with a purpose, but now shifted uncomfortably as the others surrounded her.

He sensed her uneasiness. With a nod from the Arishok, the remaining Qunari lingering in the courtyard retreated to the depths of the compound, leaving the two of them alone. Appraising her appearance, he asked, "More dealings with zealots?"

Hawke shook her head. "No, not zealots," she managed, her voice on the verge of failing under the weight of emotion. "My mother..."

The Arishok circled her, studying her armor, her blade, and the blood that still coated both. He pieced together what happened without her having to say another word. "You come seeking answers," he stated knowingly.

She bowed her head, unable to follow his movements or look him in the eye. "Yes," she admitted, though suddenly she felt ashamed that she was looking for an easy way out of this pain. "The way in which your people handle death... I - I need to know."

He stopped his movements in front of her and paused for a moment, as if considering providing her with the answer. Would this human truly understand their ways?

"Your sword," the Arishok stated as he retrieved his axe. He assumed a defensive stance and motioned for her to do the same. Confused at first of his intent, Hawke hesitated as she unsheathed her weapon, and gave him a curious glance.

He answered by bringing his axe down and across in a diagonal slash, harmlessly slicing through the air between the two. Hawke took a step back on instinct before realizing he had not put her in any real danger, and a smile curled her lips as she realized what he was offering her. She bowed slightly, hoping the act was a worldwide gesture for respect, before lunging into her first attack.

Their duel had begun.

Hawke went at him hard, first with a high horizontal cut, which he had no trouble evading, and then with a quick thrust that caused the Arishok to step to one side. She followed with more sweeping strikes and deeper thrusts, blocked effortlessly by her larger opponent and his huge weapon. He returned her ferocity with his own slow but measured attacks, which she was barely able to dodge. His battle-axe gave him a slight advantage with its size; having never been up against one, Hawke quickly adjusted her fighting style.

Using his mass against him, Hawke began circling him more quickly than he could turn around, keeping him as unbalanced as possible with her nimble maneuverability. She nearly managed to get him twice, before being blocked by the hilt of his weapon on a downswing or by a gauntleted fist. The Arishok changed up his style as well; skillfully anticipating her movements by focusing on the tension in her calves to determine which direction she'd shift her weight into next.

It was a simple tactic that she had never thought of, but knew she would use in future battles. Briefly she wondered if that's how Fenris moved so confidently when fighting.

As if aware of her wandering thoughts, the Arishok came at her with an overhead chop, gripping the axe in both hands. He had expected her to dodge to the left, but instead she took a leap back. As his weapon came in contact with the ground she dodged to his right side, swinging her sword in one large arc that nearly hit him. With ambidextrous ease, he swung his axe from the ground toward her sword, and the two metals clanged against each other loudly enough to hurt her ears.

"Impressive," the Arishok stated, completing the circled motion and freeing their weapons from entanglement.

"You have me at a disadvantage," Hawke stated as she returned to a defensive stance. "I've been fighting all day."

"On the contrary," the Arishok said, matching her pose. "The adrenaline still courses through your veins." Seizing the opportunity of their discussion for another attack, the Arishok darted forward with a rapid thrust, aiming for the center of her chest.

Her split-second distraction nearly cost her a nice gash in her armor, not to mention her flesh, but Hawke managed to bring her sword up to meet his strike in a block. She hadn't realized the force with which he attacked until she noticed her weapon bowed slightly, though the metal thankfully did not snap.

Recovering quickly from the unexpected move, Hawke performed her counterattack. A lunge, a fake to the right and then a swing to the left, and the Arishok barely escaped his own wound. The growl he released let her know that she had been successful in surprising him.

As the duel continued, showing their skill in both offense and defense, Hawke began to wear down. The physical exertion was taking its toll on her already weakened body, but it was her mental and emotional exhaustion that was causing her to falter. Images of previous battles began to flood her mind; the ogre in Lothering that took Carver, the darkspawn in the Deep Roads that led to Bethany's demise, and then... Quentin. As she attacked the Arishok, she was reliving those moments, dancing in-between the past and the present, and her fury increased as an image of the blood mage came to her mind.

The Arishok stopped attacking. Every careful swing was now done with the purpose of blocking her relentless assault. Hawke didn't seem to notice; with each strike of her blade, the impact of steel on steel created sparks that lit her grim expression, only to fall onto the sand and fade away. He stood his ground; the tip of her sword safely blocked by his axe, but this was no longer a duel of skill.

It was a release of guilt, of pain; remorse for her inability to save her family, and the agony of knowing she was now alone. Images flashed again in her mind of her father, her sister, brother and mother. She could feel the tightening of her heart, a lump forming in her throat, yet pressed on.

_I am a warrior, I am not weak! I can not give in, can not think of them... of her..._

Hawke continued her attack, vision blurred by the moisture that formed in her eyes, and exhaustion crept into her hard, tightened muscles. She was starting to miss several strikes; swinging wide, or not close enough, even though the Arishok hadn't moved an inch. Angry grunts and battle cries turned into hysterical sobs, and her tears fell uncontrollably. Her lungs constricted, her legs cramped, and she threw her sword to the ground, turning her back on him.

Hawke began to walk, attempting to work through the intense pain in her calves. Her steps increased until she moved at a frantic pace, as if she were an animal trapped in a cage. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see. A low pitched hum rang through her ears, the echoes of combat still vibrating through her flesh. Sweating, but shivering. She wanted to run, to escape, and yet her will alone could not break the circled pattern she marched. Hawke covered her ears with her hands, wanting the sounds to stop, needing the pounding to subside, but it wouldn't end. Trapped within her own body, with whatever breath she had left to muster, she released a heart-wrenching sob of agony.

If this was death, she welcomed it.

Large hands gripped her wrists and prevented her from moving further. The Arishok pulled her hands free from her face and pinned her arms behind her back. His swift and sharp movements pulled her out of the dark place she had fallen into, shocking her back to reality. Her chest was pressed against his, and now helpless under his grasp, Hawke looked up at him with a questioning glance.

He said nothing, but matched her gaze with his own. For a moment they stood in silence, both observing, searching for something within the other. Her heavy breathing caused the rise and fall of her chest to brush against his in their close proximity, and though he hadn't fought her for the last half of their battle, she noticed his breathing increased as well. She could feel his breath on her face, and when he inhaled sharply, Hawke knew what scent he would pick up.

A low, guttural sound passed his lips as they parted slightly. His grip on her wrists tightened and he pressed her even closer, bowing his head to her neck. She heard him take in another deep inhalation before he pulled back again, meeting her gaze once more.

She wanted to give into her impulse, to throw her arms around his neck and devour his mouth, and his parted lips seemed an invitation to do so. She probably would have too, if the strain she had placed on her body hadn't caught up with her. Hawke's legs finally buckled, but the Arishok prevented her fall with ease. He released her wrists, kept one arm at her back, and slipped the other beneath her knees.

Their eyes never strayed as the Arishok carried her to his hovel and placed her on his makeshift bed of straw and blankets. With a gentleness that surprised her, he retrieved a second blanket and draped it over her body.

"I have given you the answer," he stated, referring to her earlier question on how the Qunari deal with death. "It is up to you to listen."

Hawke wanted to thank him; for his kindness, for allowing her to vent her grief, but she feared any words spoken now would somehow ruin the connection they had just created, or lessen the value of the gift he had just given her. Reluctantly she closed her eyes, holding the image of his face clear in her mind, hoping to overcome the shadow of Leandra that remained.

He watched over her as she slept, studying her unconscious expressions throughout the night. The Arishok wouldn't sleep, didn't dare try, but remained awake struggling to understand what had transpired during their duel.

It was common among his human and elven converts that any form of physical activity assisted them to release whatever emotions they were subjected to. It was not the way of the Qun to do so, but through the teachings of Arigena and Ariqun he had learned it was beneficial, and possibly a necessity, for their training. So the suggestion that Hawke work through her struggles with him, while unprecedented because of his position, seemed a logical path.

Yet he had not anticipated the extent of what she needed to release. Nor did he expect what would happen during their exercise. Besides the lingering scent of desire that Hawke continued to emit when in his presence, the Arishok saw something new in her eyes when she looked at him. Upon tightening his hold on her, she didn't resist - she submitted. And when he bowed to seek confirmation, he found it.

While the Qunari do not choose partners in life or for mating purposes, this human had chosen him. He knew this to be so without doubt. What had him confused was that he was not immediately repulsed by the idea.

Retrieving her sword, the Arishok brought both her weapon and his to the weaponsmith below the compound. He remained among his people as repairs were made, attempting to reclaim a sense of calm and certainty. This is where he belonged, this was his role in the Qun, and he struggled with determination in purging these thoughts of Hawke from his mind.


	8. Mark of the Assassin: Part I

**Chapter Title: Mark of the Assassin: Part I**  
 **Written by: Wintryone, LucienGrey, & FenZev **  
**Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Even outside of Kirkwall, Hawke cannot escape the Qun.**

* * *

Hawke awakened to a silent, seemingly empty, compound. There was not one grey-skinned warrior in sight, and she assumed they had all retreated below. She'd seen the Arishok disappear down a hidden stairway more than once, and wondered idly just how large this place was beneath the light and air of the docks.

She climbed to her feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It wasn't as if she was embarrassed by what happened the previous night, but her lingering grief and sense of unease made her wish to leave the compound before he could return. Yes, she wanted to see him again, to talk to him, but there was too much to think about. Much better if she left, and returned again when she was more in control of her emotions.

She found her sword leaning against the gate blocking the compound from the rest of Lowtown, the metal shining brightly in the light of the rising sun. She picked the weapon up, testing the point of the blade with the tip of her finger. It hadn't been quite this sharp in years, and she found herself deeply touched that the Arishok had gone to the trouble of having it tended to.

Opening the gate, she nodded to the guard outside and headed in the direction of home. Her chest still felt heavy with the weight of her grief, despite the release of the previous night, as she walked the deserted streets of Kirkwall. Home, bath, bed. That sounded like the best course of action, for now.

She'd barely put her foot in the door of the estate, when Bodahn greeted her with, "You have a guest, Mistress Hawke, waiting for you in the library."

Wonderful, just what she needed. "Who?"

"Messere Varric," Bodahn replied. "I told him you weren't at home, but he rather… insisted that he wait for you." The dwarf fidgeted, as if he had somehow failed in his duty by allowing Varric to stay.

Hawke sighed heavily. "It's fine, Bodahn," she assured him. "Bring me a tray, I need food."

"Right away, Mistress," replied the dwarf, and he scurried toward the kitchen.

She entered the library to find Varric sitting at the table, a mess of parchment spread in front of him. He peered at her over the top of a letter, trimmed in gold and looking very fancy.

"You're reading my mail now?" asked Hawke as she pulled out a chair and sat down across from the dwarf.

Varric chuckled. "Apparently you never do, so I thought someone should. Why not me?"

She was glad Varric had yet to mention her mother and, truthfully, Hawke didn't care what the dwarf read. Most of the correspondence that was delivered to the estate was of little interest to her. "Anything I should know about?" she asked.

"Most of it's rubbish," Varric said, confirming her thoughts. "But there is this one very interesting invitation."

"Invitation to where?" asked Hawke. For years she had systematically turned down every invitation she'd received from Kirkwall's nobles, requesting her presence for this party, or that function. Hawke found such things not only boring, but extremely annoying.

"A place called Chateau Haine," he replied. "It's deep in the Vimmark's somewhere, according to this."

"Have Bodahn send my regrets," she told him just as her manservant entered the room, carrying a silver tray piled high with food. He knew his Mistresses' appetite well.

Varric shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable - an unusual thing for her friend. "Hawke," he began with a frown.

"Spit it out, Varric," she said, even though she was afraid he was going to bring up Mother. Hawke had no interest in that discussion at present.

"With everything… well, maybe it would do you some good to get away for awhile. Take a break from things," he said in a serious tone.

"Any place called a _Chateau_ is bound to be nothing but pretentious nonsense, of which I have absolutely no interest."

"Usually I'd agree with you, Hawke," said Varric.

"But not this time?" she asked. She'd filled her plate and began to shovel food into her mouth.

"Hear me out," he said. "This city is a powder keg, waiting to explode. You tend to be a lit match, Hawke."

Hawke nearly choked on her toast. "Is that what I am?" she finally managed.

"Well, yes," replied Varric. "If you took a small vacation, maybe things would calm down a bit."

"Or maybe they'd get worse," she countered.

"Look, you need some stress relief," Varric told her, "And apparently this Duke Prosper is hosting his annual Wyvern Hunt. We should go."

He'd finally said something that piqued her curiosity. Hawke had heard of the smaller yet nastier cousin to dragons, but she'd never seen one, much less tested her skill against such a monster.

"I see it in your eyes, Hawke. You think it might be fun," Varric said with a chuckle.

"You think?" she said, almost as surprised as the dwarf by the smile that curved her lips.

"I do," he replied. "Come on, Hawke. Trust me on this one."

She held his gaze a moment longer, before she rose from the table. She was desperate for a bath at this point. "I'll think about it," she said, and walked out without another word.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

The Arishok descended the stairs into the depths of the compound's underground. The brightly lit area, which extended to nearly the same proportion as the docks themselves, was a bustle of activity. The antaam were deep into their exercise regimen, while the kasathlok, the Qunari weaponsmiths, were sharpening blades and axes.

Though some had abandoned the Qun while in Kirkwall to become Tal-Vashoth, several hundred remained bound in their roles. The Arishok was beginning to wonder if Viscount Dumar had forgotten the vast number of Qunari that lay in wait beneath his city; how unfortunate for Kirkwall if that were the case. Several divisions broke off from the main unit, sparring and strengthening their skills. Beside each division stood an Arvaarad with his Saarebas, testing the soldier's abilities against controlled and supervised magics.

With a nod from the Arishok, selected Karasten throughout the area followed in step behind him to what was now commonly referred to as the battle room. When the last of the commanders filed in, they shut the door behind them, and the Arishok listened to their most recent reports. Having the latest information, gathered mostly from converts, the Arishok revealed his plan for a potential attack on the city.

Spread across a large table was a map of Kirkwall. It not only showed several exits from their current underground location up to the surface, but tunnels and pathways that led to Lowtown as well. When Kirkwall had still been part of the Tevinter Imperium, slaves had been tasked to carve out this area and its connecting tunnels. Most likely the tunnels had been intended for easy passage to the docks from anywhere in the city, in case a need for a quick and silent escape had arisen. He'd sent scouts to document each and every access point, and now the Arishok planned on using those tunnels to his advantage.

Also noted on the map were important locations of interest: the Chantry, Viscount's Keep, and the homes of every noble in Hightown, including the Amell estate. The Arishok reviewed his contingency plan of attack with his Karasten, listening to their input and making adjustments as he deemed necessary. At the conclusion of the meeting all seemed satisfied that a successful takeover of Kirkwall was possible, and with little resistance from the city guard. Some felt the Templars may be of concern, while others pointed out the time it would take for them to reach Hightown from the Gallows; by then the nobles would be imprisoned within the Keep if all went according to plan.

The Arishok dismissed the commanders, but not before requesting the Viddathari be brought to him. It was time to release the converts into Kirkwall once more; not only to gather information regarding further attacks on Qunari, but to protect the Basalit-An - those he deemed worthy of respect.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Hawke descended the stairway into the Hightown market, more than a little irritated. Lately, Varric seemed to do nothing but pester her. She was fond of the dwarf, but since her mother's murder he'd been constantly dropping by the estate, doing his best to drag her off on some scheme or another. He meant well, but she really wanted nothing more than to be alone with her thoughts and her grief. Her duel with the Arishok had gotten her through the worst of it, but now? She needed time to herself.

This night, however, she'd agreed to go with Varric in the hope that it would put an end to his constant badgering. They were supposed to meet with someone in the market, one of Varric's Coterie contacts.

"And what a surprise, there's no one here," Hawke said, gazing around the empty marketplace.

Varric peered behind a stall, clearly puzzled. "All I know is it's something about you and nobles. Edge is usually reliable."

"This is _usually_ when we're ambushed," Fenris said without much concern, though he was obviously ready for a fight.

"Why?" Varric asked him. "It's not always an ambush."

Hawke was about to turn around and head for home, when Antivan Crows begin pouring from the shadows. She drew her blade just as one of them stepped forward and approached her.

"Today you die, pretty one," he said in a thick accent.

"Alright, maybe sometimes it's an ambush," Varric conceded.

Before anyone could say or do anything else a dagger flew through the air, whistling past Hawke's head and piercing the throat of the man who'd threatened her. Hawke was so surprised that, for a few moments, she didn't react. Following her lead, her friends also stood still, watching in astonishment as a very small, very red-haired dwarf tumbled down from a nearby rooftop and began to engage the Crows in battle.

The elf was good, Hawke would give her that, with her slicing blades and fancy acrobatics. She made rather a lot of noise for a rogue, though, grunting and shrieking as she fought her way through her enemies in a way that tugged at Hawke's memory. The red-head's armor was clearly of elven make, but she fought like no elf Hawke had ever seen. Fenris didn't count, of course. His abilities were largely due to his lyrium markings, and he was much taller than this newcomer, anyway. She looked more like a sprite than an elf.

A thick Antivan accent startled Hawke from her reverie. "Kill her!" shouted the Crow. "Kill all of them!"

The little elf did an elaborate back-flip and landed between Hawke and the Crow who'd issued the order. To Hawke's amazement, the elf winked and then slit the man's throat, all in the space of a heartbeat.

"Well, what you are waiting for?" the elf said, just before all hell broke loose.

The Crows lived up to their reputation, and it was a hard won fight. Hawke wondered how they would have fared without the mysterious rogue's help, because the small woman took down more than her fair share of Antivan assassins. Even as Hawke plowed through her enemies, she couldn't help but keep half an eye on their temporary ally. She had never seen moves quite like the elven rogue's, and she wondered just where she had learned them. As the elf tumbled past her again, Hawke finally realized where she'd heard rhythmic grunting like that before - it had been at the compound.

Hawke had no time to consider further, however, because in a moment the strange elf was by her side.

"Sloppy," said the elf, once all their attackers were dead. "You'd think the Crows would be better at this. They've been doing it for ages."

"Not one more step before you tell me who you are," demanded Hawke. Intrigued or not, this elven woman was still an unknown, no matter how well she'd fought. "And why you set me up."

Varric tried to ease the tension. "We get ambushed a lot," he explained.

"My name is Tallis, and I've been looking for you," she said simply.

"Looking for me?" Hawke asked suspiciously. "For what? To kill me?"

"Looking for the woman who has an invitation to Chateau Haine, specifically," the elf replied, ignoring Hawke's second question.

"Your timing is a little convenient," said Hawke, even as the elf's words reminded her of something else.

"I had nothing to do with the Crows' attack," Tallis asserted, adding, "but it is no coincidence that I'm here."

"Oh! That's what Edge was going on about," interjected Varric. "You remember? That Orlesian noble who bought that ring from the Deep Roads? The invitation I told you about the other night was from him."

"Not now, Varric," Hawke told him, but at least now she remembered where she'd heard of Chateau Haine before. "This elf, Tallis, has some explaining to do." Hawke turned back to the elven rogue. "Let me guess, this isn't just a social call?"

Tallis had the good grace to look uncomfortable, though only briefly. "I need to relieve Duke Prosper, the Chateau's illustrious owner, of something he has no right to possess, and… I can't do it alone."

"You want to rob him," Hawke stated bluntly. She suddenly wished she'd brought Isabela with her. She could have sent the pirate off with Tallis and been done with it, because they certainly seemed two of a kind.

"Well, stealing from Orlesians is never wrong, or so I've been told," offered Varric.

"Varric, will you please just be quiet." Hawke shook her head and turned back to Tallis. "What makes you think I steal things just because people ask me to?"

"This isn't how I was planning to ask you at all," said Tallis. "I was picturing an introduction with less… blood."

Hawke scanned the corpses on the ground. "We've barely met and I'm supposed to help you out? And why should I believe you didn't bring the Crows with you?"

Fenris approached, and held out a small slip of parchment to Hawke. "She is telling the truth about that, at least," he said.

Hawke quickly scanned the parchment. "Lord Friedrich?" she questioned aloud as she searched her brain for the name.

"I'm pretty sure that was the noble you killed your first day in Kirkwall, Hawke," Varric said sheepishly.

Yes, that was it. The blighted dwarf knew more about her past than she did these days. Hawke spent most of her time trying to forget. "I still have no reason to help you," she told Tallis.

"Isn't that what you do? Help people in need? Champion the underdog?" Tallis asked in a rush. "Look, all I've heard is that you get things done. I'm hoping that's true."

"She's got you there, Hawke," said Varric cheerfully.

Mouthy dwarf. Hawke had half a mind to gag him, tie him up and have Fenris carry him back to the Hanged Man. Instead took a deep breath to rein in her temper, and asked Tallis, "What is it you intend to steal from this Duke?"

"It's a… jewel. The Duke thinks it's valuable, and it is - just not in the way he believes. What's more, he shouldn't have it in the first place," Tallis said with more emotion than she'd shown since her grand entrance. Suddenly, the elf's face became a serene mask. " _He who wishes to walk on water, must first learn to swim_."

"What do you mean?" Hawke asked. Something about Tallis' words sounded oddly familiar, and her exasperation was replaced by curiosity.

Tallis studied Hawke, a speculative gleam in her eye, but she said only, "Come with me to Chateau Haine and find out. At the very least, you get fine wine and fancy company." The elf began to walk away yet, before she reached the stairs to Lowtown, she turned and said, "But, I hope you want more than that."

"There would have to be more," Hawke called after her. "Because neither fine nor fancy interest me."

Tallis winked at Hawke again and, despite herself, Hawke found that she was beguiled. As quickly as the elf had come, she vanished back into the night.

"Don't forget about the wyvern hunt, Hawke," said Varric. "You still like to kill things, don't you?"

"Shut up, Varric," Hawke said, turning to stalk back up the steps toward her estate. She didn't like to admit it but Tallis fascinated her, for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on. She also didn't like to admit that Varric was probably right, and a break from Kirkwall's insanity would do her some good. As she opened the door and called for Bodahn, Hawke smiled grimly to herself. She may just go to Chateau Haine after all, but she would not be taking Varric along.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

The elf ran frantically into the compound, receiving an amused glance from the guard at the gate. These converts were overly enthusiastic, especially the ones who had converted from the alienage. Give them purpose, and their entire lives changed. The young boy nimbly moved between two other soldiers before approaching the Arishok's throne.

Looking up from the book he was reading, the Arishok waited for the elf to catch his breath. Caldeth was the young one's name, orphaned and dumped by the city guard into the poor living conditions of the alienage. Again the Arishok felt disgust for Kirkwall; how easily they pushed their problems into dark corners, much as they had with his people. This type of abhorrent behavior would not happen in Par Vollen. Oh, how Kirkwall would flourish under the Arishok, a thought that appeased him more and more as the days grew long.

"You bring news," the Arishok prompted, having little patience these days.

Caldeth nodded enthusiastically, after a bow of respect for his leader. "The target was ambushed in Hightown Square," the elf relayed. "Crows I think they said."

The Arishok stood, alarmed by this news, until Caldeth continued. "She's okay," he added hurriedly, recognizing the Arishok's concern. "An elf named Tallis came out of nowhere and helped the target and her friends dispatch the assassins quickly."

"Tallis," the Arishok repeated the name, pulling on a distant memory.

"Yes," Caldeth said. "Tallis said she was looking for the target, has a job for her to do. I think she's agreed and they are going to leave the city to break into a fancy Orlesian noble's home and steal some jewel."

"Interesting." The Arishok paced, pondering the news. "Continue your mission and report back when they return."

Caldeth nodded again, before racing out of the compound at the same swift speed with which he had entered.

"Tallis is in Kirkwall?" one of the Arishok's soldiers commented when the elf had left.

A glance from their leader revealed the Arishok was as surprised as his men to hear the news. Tallis was well known among his people - if she were seeking Hawke's aid on a mission, it was certainly for more than simple theft.

"See to it upon their return that Tallis is brought to me," the Arishok demanded.

The soldier immediately went underground to enlist a few more converts for the task, and the Arishok returned to his throne. His curiosity was getting the better of him, wondering just what kind of effect meeting Tallis would have on Hawke. He would have to wait for their mission to play out before he'd get his answers.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Nestled on the western slopes of the Vimmark Mountains, Chateau Haine and the surrounding lands certainly were beautiful. Hawke would never admit it aloud, but she was thankful to be away from Kirkwall, even if it involved dealing with Duke Prosper de Montfort, a rather pompous Orlesian noble. She could barely contain her laughter when he spoke; his accent almost sounded fake as he explained to her the wyvern hunt that was taking place on the property. He seemed surprised she had shown up, and slightly disgusted by her and her companions' dress.

Hawke didn't care, though. She was used to nobility looking down on her in Kirkwall; the Orlesian's opinion of her meant nothing. She was only there to help Tallis, take her mind off her mother, and stop obsessing about the brewing situation with the Qunari. All were easy to forget about once the hunt began, as they followed trails through the woods and strategized exactly how they would bring down one of the large beasts that inhabited the area.

With a little creativity, and some rather unpleasant gathering of ingredients, Hawke and her companions managed to take down the first wyvern of the hunt. Apparently unaware of the rules of the game, another Orlesian noble, Baron Arlange, kindly informed Hawke that he had paid to win the hunt, and therefore her kill would be claimed as his.

Hawke was not going to allow him the victory.

Duke Prosper arrived during the battle between Arlange and Hawke, and knew immediately the man was lying about the kill. Prosper seemed to have no more love for Arlange than Hawke did, and had no problem murdering the man for his crime of attacking an invited guest. Tallis seemed upset at the outcome, but Hawke didn't care either way. One less Orlesian noble was fine with her.

Now that the hunt was over, they made their way to the celebration in the gardens of the Chateau. Tallis and Hawke worked the crowd and servants, attempting to find a way into the castle, while Fenris and Anders scouted the surrounding area.

The party was, as Hawke suspected, as boring as many of the ones she had avoided in Kirkwall. Nobles mingling, complaining about this or that or, worse, gossiping about those standing two feet away. The only highlight of the entire event was seeing Seneschal Bran, in the company of a cross-dressing elf from the Blooming Rose. Hawke wondered if Viscount Dumar knew about Bran's particular tastes.

The day wore on, and Tallis still had not discovered a way into the castle. Hawke, growing impatient, took matters into her own hands. She cornered the Duke's son, Lord Cyril, and within seconds the boy was unconscious in a broom closet, a bruise forming on his chin. Hawke slipped her fingers into his pocket and withdrew the key to a conveniently located back door, allowing herself a small smirk of satisfaction.

Tallis was leaning against the wall, keeping watch, as Hawke emerged from the closet with the key held in her hand. "Got it," Hawke informed her. "Have you seen Anders or Fenris?"

"Not since the party started," Tallis answered with a small frown. "We can't wait for them - it won't be long before the Duke notices his son is missing."

Hawke nodded and, against Tallis' wish for a stealthy approach through the castle, opted to fight anyone who got in their way. She'd been having doubts about Tallis and this thievery mission to begin with and, since they were already in it this deep, a few bruised guards could hardly make a difference. The two made their way through the labyrinth of rooms and hallways, around several traps and secret passageways, and eventually ended up at the entrance to the vault. All that was left was to grab the jewel, fight their way back out, and head home to Kirkwall.

Unfortunately it wasn't as easy as Hawke had hoped.

Not that it had been simple getting through the castle, or that blasted room with all the interlocking gates. That had been more frustrating than all the guards they'd had to fight put together - something Tallis continued to seem uneasy about. As soon as they stepped into the vault Hawke heard Duke Prosper's voice, echoing from the balcony above them.

"Don't fret, my dear," he said soothingly. Guards poured into the room in their fancy Orlesian armor, weapons drawn and at the ready. They were surrounded on all sides.

Hawke gazed up as the Duke was speaking, and found herself disgusted by the way he moved his mouth, constantly biting his lower lip as if he would chew it up and swallow it. Everything seemed to amuse him, especially the fact that he had them trapped in this room like they were no more than rats in a cage.

She'd hardly been listening to his condescending chatter when, suddenly, something he said caught her attention. She'd heard 'assassin', and one other word. Hawke looked at Tallis in amazement, asking her, "You are Qunari?"

"I didn't mean for you to find out this way," said Tallis, even as she drew her weapons.

"I would venture to guess she didn't mean for you to find out at all," said Duke Prosper, laughing. "This ruse of a robbery served her purpose quite well."

"I am so sorry, Hawke," Tallis began to apologize.

"No need," Hawke interrupted. "We have more in common than you think."

Tallis looked at her in astonishment. "What do you mean?"

Hawke smiled grimly. "I am not Qunari, but..."

"I hate to interrupt such a fascinating conversation," said Duke Prosper, "but I do believe there is a nice cell waiting for you in my lovely dungeon."

Tallis moved to stand in front of the Duke. There was no fear in her posture, or her voice, as she said, "Look, I came to stop the Heart from doing something we will all regret." The elf gestured back to Hawke. "She didn't. Leave her out of it."

"And waste all the effort I spent, leading you here before the Heart's arrival?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't be foolish."

" _Asay hassatra maas_ ," Tallis said, and it sounded like a warning.

" _Maas avastrasa kulu_ n," replied the Duke, his tone no longer amused. "Take them away."

Hawke had no idea what they'd said, but there was no time to ask. The guards quickly overwhelmed them, taking their weapons before Hawke could even think to strike a blow. The two women were led down many dark stairways, until they finally came to a small antechamber, which looked like a guardroom to Hawke. There, they were stripped of their armor and given tattered, mildewed prisoner's clothes to put on. Amid the jeers and catcalls from the Chevaliers as they were roughly undressed, Hawke heard Tallis whisper, "Stay calm. It's not over yet."

* * *

_**Authors' Note: We would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed this story thus far - know that it is appreciated. Also a special note of thanks to EkoCentric for her invaluable input into "the debate."** _


	9. Mark of the Assassin: Part II

**Chapter Title: Mark of the Assassin: Part II**  
 **Written by: LucienGrey, FenZev, & Wintryone **  
**Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Trapped deep beneath Chateau Haine with Tallis, Hawke learns even more about the ways of the Qunari people.**

* * *

"Perhaps you might care to explain how exactly this isn't _over_?" Hawke demanded of Tallis as the Chevaliers closed the door to the cell with a loud _clank_.

"You're angry, aren't you?" Tallis asked, proceeding to make herself at home in the small cell. "Look on the bright side," she continued without waiting for an answer. "The Duke didn't have us killed. That's got to be worth something, right?"

Hawke sighed and slid down the wall until she, too, sat on the cold stone floor. The thin material of her pants did nothing to protect her from the dampness, and she immediately repositioned to sit on her heels. "Just what is it we're doing here Tallis? There's obviously more to the story than you've told me. Or is it a different story entirely?"

"You're right," Tallis admitted. "And I am sorry. This didn't work out like I planned... obviously."

Hawke couldn't help but laugh. "No, I wouldn't call being imprisoned _working out_. So tell me, what _was_ your plan, exactly? You told the Duke you were here to stop the Heart. Not a jewel I assume, so what did you mean?"

"No, not a jewel. The one I expected to find is named Salit, a member of the Ben-Hassrath... otherwise known as the Heart of the Many," Tallis explained. "I was told he would be here to sell secrets to the Orlesians, and I came to stop him."

"You know this Salit," Hawke guessed, noticing the troubled look in the elf's eyes.

Tallis nodded slowly. "Salit was my Besrathari - the one who recruited me into the Qun. He was my mentor, my tutor. He's the one who saw my potential, convinced me that I could make a difference." She shook her head. "I suppose it doesn't matter now who he was."

It obviously did matter, if the tone in her voice was any indication. "What kind of secrets is he selling? Qunari secrets?" Hawke found herself curious what kind of secrets the Qunari would have. She did not, however, have the slightest difficulty guessing who would want such secrets. Hawke was almost surprised there wasn't a line of hopefuls beyond the castle gates, waiting to put in their bids, with Tevinter Magisters at their head.

"Does it matter?" Tallis asked. "No. What matters is I can't let him do it. Not when he'll hurt so many others in the process."

"You mean he'll hurt other Qunari," Hawke suggested. From what she'd learned of the Tal-Vashoth, their role was to have no role. They pillaged and killed not for money or glory, but simply because they could.

"Not every Qunari is a soldier," Tallis explained. "There are tens of thousands of farmers, artisans, craftsmen - people who have never hurt anyone. People whose only crime is _living_." Tallis paused, a sadness haunting her eyes. "They don't deserve what he's going to do to them. It may be my duty to stop them but, more than that, it's also the right thing to do." Her eyes were fairly lit from within, her voice filled with passion. "You don't have to be Qunari to know that."

Hawke nodded, acknowledging the elf's statement. She knew herself well enough to know what her own choice would have been, without question. As she thought on Tallis' story, the most obvious thing came to her mind, and she asked, "You were sent by the Qunari to kill Salit then?"

"I never said I was killing him _for_ the Qunari," Tallis clarified. "You probably won't believe me, but this isn't a political mission. It's... personal."

Hawke was confused, almost astonished. That went against everything that she'd learned. "Qunari have personal missions? I was under the impression that they did what was necessary within their role for the Qun. Salit is clearly Tal-Vashoth, but you... On your own personal mission, does that not make you Tal-Vashoth as well?"

Tallis was clearly just as surprised by Hawke's knowledge of the Qun. "It seems I wasn't the only one holding back information," Tallis said, but she smiled at the human. There was something about this woman...

She had heard on the streets that Hawke was an adventurer. That she'd made a killing in the Deep Roads, and had a reputation for being the no-nonsense sort who fulfilled her contracts efficiently. Apparently there was a lot more to her than that, and Tallis felt a deep chagrin that she'd done such sloppy research herself. "I was obviously misinformed about you. Just who _are_ you Hawke?"

Hawke thought about everything she'd been told. Tallis may be unconventional, but she also seemed to care very deeply about her convictions. Considering the situation they were in, that they may die in this cell, or worse, perhaps it was time to open up to her. Tallis was a Qunari convert after all, and probably had many of the answers Hawke still sought when it came to the Qun. "I am a potential ally," Hawke said. "And may know more than you realize. Am I also to assume your name isn't really Tallis? More so that's your role within the Qun?"

Tallis did not hide her astonishment. "Very misinformed, indeed."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

"I hate it when you do that," said Anders.

Fenris turned to the mage, his lyrium markings beginning to fade away as the dead guard lay at his feet. "A squeamish healer?" he asked. "Who would have thought?"

"I am not squeamish," groused Anders. "It's just so… so unnatural."

Fenris quelled the urge to point out just who was more unnatural between the two of them, and attempted to refocus the abomination on the task at hand. He glanced down the rough stone steps that descended into darkness. "I would venture to guess this leads to the dungeons," he said, and turned back to Anders. In that moment he was sure he saw movement, in the shadows at the end of the hallway. It wasn't the first time it had happened since they'd started their search for Hawke.

Anders must have noticed the narrowing of Fenris' eyes, because his face became serious. "Again?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Fenris drawled. "I no longer have doubts. We are being followed."

"If it's the Duke's men, why haven't they simply captured us?" asked Anders, bemused.

"A good question, for which I have no answer," replied Fenris. "Still, we must go on."

"Agreed," Anders replied. He held up his hand and a small orb of light appeared in his palm. "Shall I lead?"

Fenris merely stepped aside and motioned for the mage to go first. He studied the hallway carefully again but, when he saw no further movement, he turned and followed Anders down into the darkness.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


Tallis studied Hawke carefully before she spoke again. "Yes, you are correct. Tallis is my role within the Ben-Hassrath. It means _to solve_. We are the problem solvers, obvious from the name, right? If you know of Tal-Vashoth, tell me, do you know how the Qun deals with them?"

"I do," said Hawke. She'd assisted in dealing when them more than once, though kept that to herself for now. She had to be certain Tallis was not one of them.

"I'm not Tal-Vashoth, no," Tallis answered her unasked question. "Just because I lack horns, does not mean I can not embrace the Qun. All you need is purpose. A belief in unity, in improving the lot, not only for your own people, but for everyone."

"You sound like you actually believe that," Hawke said. She had been wondering a lot lately what her own purpose was, and to hear the conviction in Tallis'voice made her somewhat uneasy. Since her mother's death she had pushed away thoughts of the future. But, as much as she struggled against the unknown, it seemed fate continued to present her with an undeniable option.

The Qun.

"I do believe it," Tallis insisted. "Nobody is controlling my mind, and I am not insane. Being Qunari doesn't automatically mean you're a zealot." She looked Hawke directly in the eye. "Most Qunari don't even understand humans, why you act like you do. But I grew up among them. I was witness to the slavery and abuse, sometimes even subjected to it. We all struggled just to survive, wondering why we were forsaken. The Qunari gave me purpose when I had none."

Hawke studied the elf, and did not doubt her story. She'd heard much the same from Fenris over the years. "Sounds like the Qun came into your life at a time when you needed them most."

Tallis nodded. "It may be hard to understand; our way of thinking often seems strange to others. But tell me, Hawke, can you honestly say there's nothing to improve in your life? Nothing to strive for? Qunari believe in striving together. We may stumble, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try."

"I don't disagree," Hawke offered tentatively.

"It's who I am," Tallis continued. "I joined the Ben-Hassrath because I felt it meant something... means something."

Hawke tilted her head. "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," she said, hearing doubt in the elf's tone.

"It's been a long time since I have talked to anyone about it," Tallis replied, evading the question. "Though I doubt it's prison conversation," she added dismissively.

But this _was_ a conversation Hawke had wanted for a long time; hearing from someone that was not born within their role, someone who held the passion and love for the Qunari and their way of life... Hawke didn't want Tallis to think she didn't want to hear more. "Can you tell me more about the Ben-Hassrath?"

Tallis nodded. "Some people say the Ben-Hassrath are the enforcers that keep the Qunari in line, but that's not it. We're... the soul of the Qun. We keep its spirit alive and protect it, from both the outside and from within. Not every Qunari agrees, nor do they always do what is best for all. The Ben Hassrath remind us of our common goal."

Hearing Tallis' explanation, her words about soul and spirit, touched something in Hawke - something she had felt deeply, but now was almost a confirmation for her. No matter how flawed, people working selflessly together was not something she had the privilege to witness in Kirkwall. No matter how much good she did, or what kind of example she provided, everywhere Hawke turned was corruption and greed. "You make them seem almost peaceful," she said with a soft realization.

"It's not always meant to end in violence," Tallis said. "There are other paths. They do not all need to lead to the same destination." She dropped her eyes to the rough floor. "Though I probably don't sound very convincing."

"The way you're talking... it sounds like you can't figure out if you are one of these Ben-Hassrath or not," Hawke pointed out. "First it was _I_ and _we_ , now it is _they_?"

"I am," Tallis said quickly. "Or at least I was. Whether I ever am again... I guess that remains to be seen."

Hawke had a sudden realization. "So that is why you are here? To redeem yourself?"

"Not to them," Tallis said. " _Doubt is the path one walks to reach faith. To leave the path is to embrace blindness and abandon hope_."

Against her wishes, a smile crept upon Hawke's lips. There was no doubt Tallis was Qunari, speaking in Qunari proverbs much like the Arishok loved to speak in code. "I haven't heard that one before," Hawke said. "Have any more?"

Tallis smiled. " _She who swallows wisdom in tiny chunks avoids choking_."

Hawke stood, stretching her legs. "I must admit Tallis, you are certainly turning out to be more than I expected."

"Truth? You aren't what I was expecting either," Tallis said. "Perhaps if I had done my homework, I would have known more about you. Given you the respect you deserve."

"All of this nonsense could've been avoided had you told me the truth from the beginning," Hawke said with a shrug. "But, then again, some of my strongest friendships began with deceit," she added with a smile, recalling how she met Fenris.

"We'll be braiding each other's hair in no time," Tallis joked. "For what it's worth, I am sorry," she said again. "I misjudged you."

"We have more in common than you think," Hawke said, deciding it was time to reveal her own truth to Tallis in return for all she had offered. "Had you done your homework, as you say, you would've learned I am not only an advocate for the Qunari in Kirkwall, but I am the only human the Arishok has bothered to speak to within the last six years."

Tallis did not hide her surprise. "You've spoken to the Arishok? How long ago? About what?"

Hawke laughed, and could've sworn she saw a hint of excitement in the elf's eyes. "Yes I've spoken to him, as recently as a few days ago, and we speak on many things. Why?"

"I just... am curious is all," Tallis said, avoiding Hawke's gaze.

Hawke folded her arms across her chest. "Really now? You've been rather chatty up until this point, don't stop now. I can see it's more than curiosity, and I'm willing to bet this _is_ prison conversation."

Tallis shook her head, struggling within herself to determine just how much she should reveal to Hawke. "Let's just say... we have a history, and leave it at that."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


" _You lack discipline," the Arishok stated, staring down at the elf before him._

_She sat on the crate, tossing one of her throwing daggers up in the air and catching it with ease. "It's not discipline I lack," she said, refusing to meet his gaze. "I'm just bored. Give me something to do, anything, please."_

_The Arishok was not amused. "There is much within your role you could be doing, Tallis. You choose not to."_

" _Yeah, well, sitting around a large circle sharpening blades only takes so long. When do I get a mission? Something to solve? That is my true purpose isn't it?"_

" _Your assignments come from the Ariqun, not from me," he reminded her._

_Tallis rolled her eyes. "Yes, but she sent me to you because of my attitude problem. She said I needed, what was it, an adjustment? Personally I see nothing wrong with me, but if you want to discipline me," she said seductively, "I'm all for it."_

_The growl which radiated from him was a warning. "This is the adjustment you require. Your… appetites for physical distraction are the concern."_

" _And this is where the problem lies," Tallis said. "I don't mean to tell you people how to run things, but us elves and humans, we have needs, of the physical kind. Needs which don't get addressed after we've converted. The more of us you recruit, the more you're going to have to work on that."_

" _A month in the mining camps will solve your problem," he threatened._

_She sighed, leaning back against the wall. "The Ariqun assigns you a mate, right?"_

" _If there is a necessity for breeding, the Tamassran will assign a mate. We do not breed converts," he informed her._

_"So... why can't the Tamassran assign two converts together without the purpose of breeding?" Tallis questioned. "Just to, you know, have a little fun for a night and then back to work in the morning?"_

_The Arishok released a frustrated sigh. Those within the Ariqun had warned him Tallis was a handful, and may not be a successful convert, but they had given him the final say in whether or not she was salvageable. Her skills were impeccable, there was no denying that, but her flirtatious attitude and sexual advances toward anyone she came in contact with were beginning to become disruptive. Still he tried, not wishing to lose one as capable in a fight as she._

_"There are other outlets for you to find the release you seek," he said. "We do not have such problems, so it can be done."_

" _You were born into your role," Tallis protested, leaping to her feet to stand in front of him. She had to tilt her head back to look at him, his height was twice her size. "We were not. Finding purpose within the Qun, well, it means something to me. To all of us. But we have grown accustomed to our desires of the flesh, as the Ariqun calls it. I seek a release, and if that need is not met, I can not fulfill my role. The lack of release is what is distracting me."_

_The Arishok thought on her words. "This is true for all elves?"_

_Tallis nodded. "Humans, too. Probably dwarves as well, but I haven't seen any dwarf Viddathari. You have them, too?"_

_He nodded. It was clear to him that she spoke for many and, if what she said was true, it would need to be considered. "I will bring your concerns to the Triumvirate," the Arishok told her. "Though, if you are granted what you seek, partners will be assigned. Viddathari are due no different treatment than others."_

_Tallis clasped her hands together. "Thank you! You'll make all of us very happy, and probably increase productivity."_

" _Productivity can begin now," he said, handing her a sack of blades. "These require sharpening."_

_The elf did not hide her disappointment. "Great. Tallis: problem solver and knife sharpener. That's me."_

_The Arishok shook his head at her sarcasm as he exited the camp and headed toward the Triumvirate meeting hall. He had to admit he was curious what they would rule on this matter._

The sound of his men training in the courtyard pulled the Arishok from his memories. There was only one elf he'd ever known, or heard of, within the role of Tallis - it was almost certainly her. That she had returned to Kirkwall surprised him; she'd been with them when the Qunari landed in the city, assigned to the ship's galley after being stripped of her role for failing a mission. Granted a chance to redeem herself, Tallis had been sent to capture a Saarebas turned Tal-Vashoth. That had been years ago, and no one had heard from her or the missing Saarebas since. It was almost certain that she had failed once again.

What did she want with Hawke? The Arishok considered several possibilities, none of which bode well for either of them. But, if Tallis were still on the path of redemption, perhaps something positive would come of their interaction after all.

He looked forward to their return.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


"Are you saying that you..." Hawke was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps and a sudden shout.

"There you are!" exclaimed Anders. "We've been looking all over for you!"

Hawke bit back her frustration and glanced hard at Tallis, letting her know without words their conversation was not over. She turned back to her friends, and saw they carried her gear with them. "Can you open the door?" she asked them.

"Perhaps this will be of use," said Fenris, and tossed Tallis her toolkit through the bars.

"I won't ask how you got our stuff back," Hawke told him.

"Best not to," Fenris agreed.

Tallis made short work of the lock, and soon they were tearing off the scratchy, moth-eaten rags with relief.

"Maker bless you Anders," Hawke said, grabbing her armor and putting it on.

As Anders watched from behind her, admiring her round rump, he replied, "The Maker already has."

Once fully armored, Tallis led them to a fissure in the stone walls of the dungeons. "The maps show this leads through a series of caverns and back to the surface," she said, looking at Hawke expectantly.

"Lead on," Hawke told her. The rest of her questions would have to wait until the were free of this wretched place.

The tunnels turned out to be filled with ghasts, but that wasn't the worst of their problem. Cahir, Duke Prosper's pet Chasind, showed up, wanting to test himself against such a _worthy_ opponent. Hawke cursed under her breath as a metal gate fell, separating Tallis from the rest of the party. And, of course, the elf was on the side of the gate that led to the way out. Even as she drew her sword to battle Cahir and his host of mages, Hawke thought to herself that this would be the real test. If Tallis deserted them now, she'd have her answer as to just what kind of person she was.

Anders did his best to control the mages while Hawke and Fenris fought Cahir, but it wasn't going well. There was just too much magic flying about the spacious cavern.

So it was with great relief that Hawke heard Tallis'grunting battle cry and saw her tumble down into the fray. Suddenly sharp little knives were flying through the air, most of them piercing the throats of the mages, which gave Anders a chance to help with Cahir. Shortly after Tallis joined them the battle was over, and they quickly made their way to the surface. One thing Hawke certainly would not question in the future was Tallis' skill at fighting.

There was no time for respite, however, because no sooner had they emerged into the light of day, than they were again overwhelmed by ghasts, this time accompanied by a wyvern.

"Maker, I thought these things were supposed to be extinct," shouted Anders, dodging the wyvern's charge.

"Let's make this one extinct!" Hawke yelled back. She was frustrated enough by all that had happened that fighting the beast actually felt good. Even better was the feeling once it lay dead at her feet.

They turned their back on the body to head up the mountain path towards the castle. They didn't make it more than a few feet before Tallis held up a hand to stop their forward momentum, eyes scanning their surroundings intently.

"Tal-Vashoth," whispered Tallis.

Hawke glanced at the elf. "Is it a fight?" she asked, already drawing her sword.

The first spear flew through the air, missing Fenris by only a few inches. The elf roared and charged into the group of grey giants.

"That would mean yes," said Tallis.

Strangely enough, the Tal-Vashoth group did not stand and fight, but kept retreating higher up the mountain path. Hawke took the lead, and it wasn't long before they came upon the Tal-Vashoth leader. He was a worthy opponent, but her duel with the Arishok had taught her a few things. Taking a deep breath, Hawke went head to head with him in a battle of swords.

It didn't last long. Hawke raised her blade, knowing that her next strike would be the killing blow, when she heard Tallis shout, "Wait!"

The ex-Qunari was already on the ground, bleeding profusely, when Tallis knelt next to him and began to speak in Qunlat. Hawke didn't even try to follow their conversation, but instead submitted herself to some much needed healing from Anders.

When Tallis rejoined them, she said. "Salit is already here. He's meeting with the Duke at the base of the mountain."

"Then we've been going the wrong way," said Hawke in frustration.

"We need to get down there before it's too late," Tallis said, and led them down the mountain at a swift run.


	10. Redemption

**Chapter Title: Redemption**  
 **Written by: FenZev, Wintryone, & LucienGrey **  
**Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Tallis makes her case to the Arishok, and the two discuss Hawke's possible conversion.**

* * *

"We could just leave, you know," Anders said from behind her. "This Qunari business isn't really our problem."

"I hate to agree with the mage..." Fenris began, but Hawke cut him off.

"We're seeing this through," Hawke told them. "Tallis kept her word, and I will keep mine."

"But she lied to you!" Anders exclaimed.

"More than once," added Fenris.

"I'm right here," Tallis said. "Listening. Hearing every word you say."

Hawke didn't bother to try to explain herself to the others. For the first time since her mother had died, she felt... well, like she was doing the right thing. That, somehow, she had found her way again, and she wasn't about to turn back now.

She could see a large stone structure just ahead down the path, on the other side of a large copse of trees. As one, they all slowed and approached what looked to be an old ruin.

"Wait," hissed Tallis, holding up one hand to signal a halt. "Listen. The one in front is Salit."

Hawke peered through the thick evergreens and into the courtyard beyond, where four well-armed Qunari stood waiting as Duke Prosper approached them with a contingent of his own men.

"Let's get this over with, Qunari, before the assassins find us," said Prosper, as if he were talking to one of his servants. "Already I regret agreeing to spare them."

"I have chosen my path," responded Salit in a deep, rumbling voice that rivaled the Arishok's. "That choice should..."

Prosper cut him off. "Parshaara!" he ordered. "I am here to facilitate your deal with the Empress, nothing more."

Salit's lips curled into a snarl and he reached for the two long blades crossed at his back. Hawke held her breath, wondering if they should intervene. Salit, however, merely pulled the swords from their sheaths and pushed them hard into the ground at his feet, before producing an ornately carved scroll and approaching the Duke.

Prosper motioned for his Lieutenant to accept the scroll, and there was dead silence as the man opened it and began to read. After a few moments, he said, "Names, Your Grace. It's a list of names."

"Let me see," Prosper said and yanked the scroll from the man's grasp. He scanned the rolled parchment briefly before glaring up at Salit. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You asked for a weapon. I am providing it," Salit said calmly.

"We expected the formula for Black Powder, dreadnought plans, a map of Qunandar - anything! This? This is useless," spat the Duke.

"I have a plan," whispered Tallis, breaking Hawke's attention from the scene in the courtyard.. "You three, walk in there and distract them for me?"

Hawke barely had to consider this time. Tallis had not let her down yet, so she simply nodded and motioned for Fenris and Anders to follow her.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Hawke," said Fenris quietly.

"That makes two of us," she replied.

"Your Grace!" said the Lieutenant when he saw them approaching.

"Serah Hawke," said the Duke. "I should have known you would turn up."

Distracted, Prosper shoved the scroll behind him for one of his guards to take. Hawke saw the bright red hair sticking out behind the guard's mask and worked hard to keep a straight face. Duke Prosper had just handed the scroll to Tallis.

"It's a gift of mine, really," said Hawke. "Showing up to fight the bad guy."

"You have a lot of nerve, you insolent little wench," sneered Prosper.

Suddenly a blur of Tallis moved between Hawke and the Lieutenant, a flash bomb went off, and Tallis flipped up onto the high palistrade. The elf really was amazingly skilled.

"Tallis," said Salit in his calm, deep voice.

"I said I would stop you, Salit," she replied.

"And I said I would slay you if you tried," he countered.

"Excuse me," said Prosper sarcastically, "but if anyone is to do any slaying, it will be me." He pulled an elaborate crossbow from his back and aimed it at Salit. Before the grey giant could move or speak, he pulled the trigger, and a glob of sticky fluorescent green color hit Salit's chest and shoulder.

"Wyvern venom," cursed Anders, as he pulled his staff from his back.

A great, piercing roar sounded from the top of the stone edifice, and Prosper's wyvern, Leopold, was suddenly in the air, launching himself directly at Salit. There was no time to react, no time to save him, as Leopold clamped his massive jaws into the Qunari's chest and began to rip and rend his flesh.

"Kill them all!" shouted Prosper.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


"If you ask me, this probably isn't going to sit well with Empress Celene," said Anders as they watched the Duke and his wyvern tumble down the cliff face to their deaths.

"Right now, I hardly care," said Hawke. "I just want to get out of here, and quickly." They turned to leave, but the sight that greeted them stopped Hawke in her tracks.

"Are you kidding? _More Qunari?_ " Tallis groaned, pulling for her side blades and preparing for battle.

"Wait," Hawke says, placing a hand on her arm. "I know them. They are from the compound in Kirkwall."

"I'm not sure that makes me feel any better, Hawke," said Anders, and he took a step behind her.

"The rest of the dreadnought crew," Tallis whispered, studying the faces of those she hadn't seen in years. For a moment, Hawke thought it appeared as if Tallis were going to run.

She waited a second too long, as the rest of the Qunari formed a circle around them. "The Arishok has sent for you," one of them stated. "Both of you," he added, looking at Tallis.

Hawke shook her head. "Couldn't jump in to help us back there? No, of course not. Alright then, lead the way back to Kirkwall."

"Uh oh," Tallis muttered as they followed behind the marching Qunari.

Hawke turned to look at her. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing," Tallis shrugged. "Just taking the final steps to my death is all."

"But what you've done here, won't that return you to your status?" Hawke asked. "If he wanted you dead, you wouldn't be receiving an escort back."

Tallis laughed. "Well, that depends. Has the Arishok been in a good mood lately?"

"No," Hawke, Fenris, and Anders said in unison.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

With their Qunari escort, they made good time through the Vimmarks and back to the familiar territory of the Wounded Coast. As soon as Hawke could see Kirkwall's high walls looming in the distance, her steps slowed and an uneasy feeling crept over her. Although the Arishok's soldiers had remained silent the entire trip, she could feel the tension radiating from them.

Things were heating up in the City of Chains, and she had the certain feeling she was going to be right smack in the middle when it finally blew up.

Fenris and Anders had developed an unlikely truce throughout this latest adventure, and so Hawke was only mildly surprised when the two headed off together to the Hanged Man, leaving her and Tallis to make their way to the docks with only the Qunari as companions. She didn't think it was her imagination that the nearer they came to the compound, the more the Qunari closed ranks around them. By the time they were standing at the bottom of the steps peering up at the Arishok, where he sat in his makeshift throne, Hawke felt like they were under arrest.

"Are you going to hear her out first before you go locking her up again?" Hawke asked before thinking better of it.

"Hawke," the Arishok warned, and she immediately obeyed, remaining silent.

Tallis smiled. "Wow, he's got you trained already."

Hawke shot her a warning glare, and Tallis took a step back. "Kidding, of course. Arishok," Tallis straightened her back, and turned to address him again. "I believe what I have is worth more than the lives lost. Just look it over."

Tallis held out the scroll for him with a steady hand, and after a few rumbling breaths he accepted it.

"Your previous mission was a failure then," the Arishok stated more than he asked.

Tallis shrugged. "That is probably a matter of opinion. And as I can see your opinion is the only one that matters... then yes, it was a failure."

"Report," the Arishok demanded, wanting to know more. After years of witnessing Kirkwall's wicked and corrupted nature, it was intriguing to know that in the larger world, other Qunari were following their purpose, however misguided those efforts might sometimes be.

Tallis looked apprehensively toward Hawke. "Uhm, no offense to Hawke, but are you sure you want her to hear this?" she asked the Arishok.

Hawke crossed her arms but remained silent, waiting to hear the Arishok's reply.

"Hawke is aware of the corruption within this city," the Arishok answered succinctly. "I care little if she hears more."

Tallis nodded, and took a deep breath. "My mission was to hunt down a renegade Saarebas that escaped when we landed in Kirkwall," Tallis explained, starting from the beginning to fill Hawke in on the details. "I was able to find his Arvaarad on the cliffs behind the city, but he was already dead."

"Saarebas managed to take on and defeat his Arvaarad?" Hawke asked, surprised. After her experiences with Ketojan, she'd wondered if the Qunari's way of handling mages was all it should be. It had seemed cruel to her even then, but if their extreme measures still could not contain the dangers of magic and mages, that made it doubly so.

"No," Tallis said. "It wasn't Saarebas that killed Arvaarad. His head was severed from his body, a skilled swordsman ran him through. Saarebas was taken by someone else. It wasn't hard to follow the trail; his captors weren't very good at covering their tracks."

"Where did this trail lead?" Hawke feared she already knew the answer, but needed to hear it anyway. Leaving a clear trail? She could easily think of one group in the city who would have that kind of arrogance.

Tallis glanced at the Arishok once more, as if looking for confirmation to reveal the truth. She'd come to like Hawke, and even trust her, but she was still, well, a _bas_. When he nodded, she continued with her story. "The trail led to Kirkwall, to the dungeons below the Chantry. The Saarebas was with a dozen other prisoners, some of them mages, some not. But they had all escaped by the time I got there."

Hawke shook her head. "Mages are constantly escaping the Gallows," she said, recalling the few times the Templars had asked for her assistance in apprehending apostates.

"Not the Gallows, Hawke," Tallis said, and then carefully repeated her words. " _The dungeons below the Chantry._ There's an entire underground setup where they take special prisoners and interrogate them. They even have runes that sound proof the rooms and prevent the screams from being heard by the faithful directly above."

"And you know this how?" Hawke asked, not entirely believing this tale. Because if it were true there were torture chambers under the Chantry, she wondered just how high the corruption went. All the way to Orlais? To White Spire?

"I teamed up with a Templar who was tracking the Saarebas with his phylactery," Tallis explained. "In our travels we also met up with another prisoner from the dungeons, a Nevarran reaver named Nyree. She's the one who told me about the torture the prisoners went through. The Templar, Cairn, confirmed it." Tallis kept Cairn's more personal motivations to herself. They wouldn't matter to the Arishok, anyway.

Hawke quietly processed what she was hearing. "Why would the Chantry take their own prisoners? Why not throw them in the Gallows?"

"Cairn said they were after Qunari secrets, at least that's why they were interrogating Saarebas," Tallis said. "The Gallows aren't really equipped for what they were doing, and I don't think their methods would be embraced by all Templars, or the First Enchanter, or the guards that patrol the Gallow's dungeons." Tallis took another breath to steady herself. It would do her no good to appear agitated in front of the Arishok. "I never did find out why they had the Nevarran. Maybe to learn the skills of a reaver? I don't know. You'd have to ask their captors, though I don't recommend it."

"More corruption," Hawke whispered to herself.

The Arishok finally spoke. "It is no more or less than this city has already shown," he reminded her. "The capture of Saarebas was years ago, and yet they pretend tolerance and peace toward our kind."

"Does the Viscount know what's going on right under his nose?" Hawke asked, and then quickly corrected herself when the Arishok opened his mouth to speak again. "The Viscount is a fool, yes, I know. So it is entirely plausible he has no idea what is happening in his own city. But Knight-Commander Meredith and Grand Cleric Elthina..."

"They have to know," Tallis finished for her. "The Templar use of resources and access to the dungeons would require both be involved. I know you have a reputation for protecting the people of this city Hawke, but who knows how far the corruption goes?"

"I'm beginning to get an idea," Hawke said, her head spinning with this new information. While Varric had already planted the seeds of Kirkwall's corruption in her mind, this was the confirmation she had hoped she would never hear.

"As for the Saarebas," Tallis said, directing her words toward the Arishok, "after his escape, his plan was to open a portal to the Fade, and release several very powerful demons upon the city. He wanted to destroy Kirkwall, the Qunari, anything in his path. He was mad for revenge." She paused briefly and bowed her head before she delivered her next news. "We tracked him to Sundermount where he was performing the ritual, and had no choice but to kill him before he could complete it."

Hawke wasn't certain why the Arishok would be upset about Tallis stopping the Saarebas from performing such an act, but she wasn't about to put herself between the two. "Where is Cairn now?" she asked instead. "I would love to ask him more about those dungeons."

She was surprised to see a trace of sadness come over Tallis' pretty face, though it was only for a moment. "He didn't survive Sundermount," she answered. "Saarebas had me captive, was about to do me in with a lightning spell, but Cairn intervened."

"And the Nevarran?" Hawke asked. She was pretty sure there were huge chunks of the story Tallis was omitting, but felt it wasn't her place to dig too deeply. She was also rather surprised that the Arishok sat calmly watching her as she questioned Tallis. Was this another one of his _tests?_

"Went home I think," Tallis replied. "She wasn't part of my assignment, so I had no need for her."

Hawke allowed a few minutes of silence to pass before she turned her attention back to the Arishok. "This scroll we recovered from Salit, is it enough to re-instate Tallis?"

"Do you believe it is?" the Arishok asked Hawke. Now she was nearly sure it was a test.

"You're letting her decide?" Tallis gasped.

A warning glance from the Arishok stilled Tallis' tongue as he waited for Hawke's response.

Hawke considered her answer, because she intended to pass this newest trial. Though she initially met Tallis under false pretenses, the elf had eventually opened up to her and answered many of her questions that the Arishok never would, or could.

It was clear Tallis had lost her way, but now the elf was fighting for a way back to her purpose, needing to have her place among the Qunari again, and Hawke felt as if she understood that. She too had struggled for years to find somewhere she fit in. It hadn't been in Ferelden, and it certainly wasn't among the nobles in Kirkwall. But her last few interactions with the Qunari, and especially with the Arishok, had left Hawke feeling more satisfied than any other experience in her life. If Tallis felt that way too, who was she to deny her that chance?

"I believe it is," Hawke answered. "By retrieving the scroll and saving so many innocent lives, Tallis has acted honorably, and with the best interest of the Qun in mind. Even if her previous mission was to retrieve the Saarebas alive, she was left with little choice in the end. Knowing she couldn't return to her role without compensating in some way, she has spent years finding a way to redeem herself. If I understand correctly, that list in the wrong hands would've meant death for many of your people. What more proof do you need that she is a faithful convert, willing to do anything for the Qun?"

The Arishok shifted his gaze from Hawke to Tallis. "You may leave Hawke," he said. "I require further discussion with Tallis."

Hawke wasn't sure if that meant he was going to agree with her decision, but there was little else she could do. As she walked passed Tallis, she whispered, "good luck."

Tallis smiled uneasily. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it. Thank you Hawke, for what you said. And... all you've done to help me."

"I may be thanking you when this is all over," Hawke said thoughtfully. She glanced at the Arishok one last time before exiting the compound.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


The sun was just setting as they pushed through the door of the Hanged Man, and out into the darkening evening. Hawke had spent the better part of the afternoon with Varric and Fenris, telling Varric about their trip to Chateau Haine, and filling them both in on her discussion with Tallis and the Arishok.

The past few days she'd been thinking. A lot. About the Arishok. Only this time she'd been trying to piece together what she knew, and not unravel her complicated feelings toward him. There had been one thing that had bothered her, because of what she'd learned from Tallis. If she'd been on one of the Qunari ships, after they had become stranded in Kirkwall...

Hawke had decided a bit of investigating wouldn't hurt, and before Fenris could turn toward the stairway leading to Hightown, she asked him to take a walk with her.

"Of course," he said, falling into step next to her. "Where are we going?"

"The docks," she replied, and led the way down the narrows steps that would take them to the harbor.

Once there, Hawke strolled passed the compound without a second glance, and out to the edge of the water.

"We pass through here almost daily," Fenris remarked.

"Yes, but we haven't _looked_ ," Hawke said simply. "Tell me Fenris, how many of these ships haven't moved in years? Like that one," she pointed at a long, sleek ship anchored not far offshore. "Or that one? If what Tallis told us was true, and she was working on a Qunari vessel in the kitchens before she was tasked to retrieve the Saarebas, it means Qunari have always had the opportunity to leave, and yet they haven't."

"The Arishok made it clear there is a role to fulfill in Kirkwall, Hawke," Fenris said. "He will not leave until that task is completed."

"He continues to go on about how 'no ship is coming', but there's one already here, isn't there?"

Fenris browsed the ships that were docked, and pointed to one off in the distance. "That one," he said. "That is a Qunari vessel. Not a dreadnought that would transport the Arishok, but part of their fleet. They would have had more than one ship. At least three including his."

Hawke stared out across the sparkling water, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. There were definitely some missing pieces to this story. Information she did not have to make sense of why it was exactly that the Qunari were still in Kirkwall when they'd clearly had a means to leave this entire time.

She remembered the Arishok's words: _I am here to fulfill a demand that you cannot understand..._ What had he meant? What did the Qun demand of him?

Hawke intended to find out.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

"You're really prepared to take over Kirkwall?" Tallis said as she looked around the compound's underground.

The Arishok grunted as they walked through the various training sessions and other preparations for war. "Their provocations will be their undoing," he said as they continued on to a back room. Tallis followed as he entered, and the Arishok closed the door behind them. He gestured to the map on the table as they both sat. "And you know why we can not leave. Showing this city the way of the Qun is an easy enough task," he added.

"I'm sure it is," Tallis agreed, briefly studying the various markings on the map. "But I'm also sure you didn't bring me down here to show me your plans."

"No," he replied.

"Hawke," Tallis stated, and the Arishok nodded. "She has a good understanding of the Qun, your influence, I'm guessing. Has she asked to convert yet?"

The Arishok rested his clawed hand on the table. "No."

"I think she will," Tallis said without hesitation. "She has asked all the right questions, things I wish I could've asked someone when I was lost and confused. I suspect there is only one thing holding her back."

His silence implied what Tallis had suspected was the real reason for this private discussion. "Hawke and I had the opportunity for some alone time," she continued. "She is a fierce warrior... to fight the way she does requires a bit of passion. I saw it in her eyes whenever she threw herself into battle. She's searching for release, of the physical kind, and from what I see, she hasn't found it yet."

"She is... Basalit-An," the Arishok admitted, "and therefore worthy of becoming Viddathari. The release she seeks, however, can not be found in her skill with a blade. We have tried."

Tallis' eyes widened. "You fought her?"

"Yes," he said plainly. "It began as compensation for grief, but turned to a test of strength that ended in Hawke's desire for... more." The Arishok was clearly uncomfortable discussing it further with Tallis, but that didn't stop the elf.

"And you didn't give in? If Hawke has displayed a desire for you..." Tallis began, not understanding what the problem was.

"It is not the way of the Qun," the Arishok stated firmly.

"I don't recall that being a problem for you before," Tallis continued, willing to push him a little farther. Though he would never admit it, their past together had given her certain privileges. "The Triumvirate agreed it was acceptable, didn't they?"

The Arishok narrowed his eyes. "Your conversion deemed it necessary."

Tallis couldn't help but smile. It had been very necessary, and it had worked. "And what makes Hawke any _less_ necessary? She'd be an asset to the Ben-Hasrath, you know this. You'd be a fool to let her go."

"What you suggest has not been done since your conversion," the Arishok pointed out. "And only with you."

Tallis shrugged. "Then maybe it's time. I've talked to Hawke, I feel as if I know her. She's not that different from I was when I first found the Qun. She even reminds me of me, once upon a time. Curious, but lost, trying to find her place in this world. If _that_ is all she needs, then give it to her. If you're sure that is, which I tend to agree. Otherwise things could get... awkward."

"She has shown signs of submission," The Arishok informed Tallis.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Tallis asked. "I told you once before, that we Viddathari seek release, and if that need is not met, we can not fulfill our roles within the Qun. Hawke hasn't even converted yet, but if you show her that she can find her release and still have purpose... It's what she wants, what you've already admitted she's been searching for. She submits to you, desires you, and I believe would benefit from the same arrangement that you and I had."

"I am not in the position to make that decision," the Arishok said.

Tallis shrugged. "I don't see anyone else from the Triumvirate here. You're it, so it is your decision," Tallis said as she stood. "Explain to her how it works within the Qun, and I'm certain she'd be on our side in no time." Tallis opened the door to leave, but paused as the sound of swords being forged filled the room. "Of course there is one other thing that may prevent her from joining us."

The Arishok stood and joined her at the doorway, surveying the preparations for war. He knew that was what Tallis was referring to; Hawke had involved herself in several situations that were for the good of Kirkwall, regardless of its festering corruption behind closed doors. She cared for this city, though why she did, he did not understand.

"She doesn't know about all this, does she?" Tallis asked, though she didn't expect an answer. When the Arishok remained silent, she sighed. "You know where I'll be if you need me," she said before exiting.

The Arishok considered Tallis' words. Would Hawke wish to become Viddathari, knowing the fate of her city? And as for a physical relationship between them, Tallis was right; he would find no guidance from the Triumvirate being so far from Par Vollen, so it was up to him to decide. If what Tallis said was true, and Hawke was close to conversion, it would be in the best interest of the Qun to seal her fate.

By any means necessary.


	11. Following the Qun

**Chapter Title: Following the Qun**  
 **Written by: Wintryone, LucienGrey, & FenZev**  
 **Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: As Hawke continues to struggle with her choices, things in Kirkwall begin to fall apart.**

* * *

Hawke's plans for investigating the Qun's demands upon the Arishok were waylaid by yet another summons from the office of the Viscount. Considering her disgust for the power structures in Kirkwall, she nearly threw the letter in the wastebasket. In fact, she'd just finished crumpling the parchment into a wad, when Bodahn spoke up.

"Are you sure that's wise, messere?" asked her manservant, rather hesitantly.

"I owe nothing to Dumar," she responded. "Why should I concern myself with his latest crisis? My efforts to help the city so far have come to nothing."

The dwarf shifted his feet, and looked uncomfortable, but he clearly had more to say on the matter.

"Spit it out, Bodahn," she told him. The dwarf rarely interfered in her business, and if he felt compelled to do so now, she wanted to hear him out.

"There are rumors…" he began.

Hawke snorted. "Nothing new, there."

Bodahn peered up at her with serious eyes. "Servants talk, messere. Gossip, you might say."

This piqued Hawke's interest. She well knew that some of the best information could be gathered from those who were often regarded by their employers no more highly than the furniture. "Go on," she prompted.

"Well, not to talk out of turn, but I heard there's some trouble with the Viscount's boy," he replied.

"Saemus? What kind of trouble?" Hawke was fond of Saemus Dumar, and considered him one of her few allies in Kirkwall. If he needed her help...

"I'm not exactly sure," Bodahn replied. "Only that there was a lot of… shouting."

Hawke looked down at the crumpled paper in her hand. Perhaps she should head to the Keep, after all.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


"It is apparently not enough that the Qunari define my political life, they now must infect what I hold dear, as well," Viscount Dumar said as soon as Hawke walked in through the door of his office.

So much for friendly greetings.

When Hawke did not respond, the Viscount continued. "It is Saemus," he said, sounding defeated. "The life you saved, he would now throw away by converting to the Qun. He has left for the Qunari compound." A look of clear distress came over Dumar's face, and she half expected him to drop to his knees and clasp his hands to beg for her help. "Please, Serah Hawke, convince Saemus to come home."

Hawke considered her answer carefully. Although, more than anything, she'd like to give this man a piece of her mind, she decided it was best to refrain from outright antagonism. "He is of age," she said cautiously. "The decision seems rightly his."

Dumar began to pace. "I want to let him find his way, but in my position…" He stopped and turned to her with beseeching eyes. "He's taken a great deal of inspiration from you. I want to allow his idealism, but not blindly." Dumar shook his bowed head. "At best my opponents will now claim this office is in Qunari hands. At worst, I lose my son."

"Did anyone else see him leave for the compound?" Hawke asked, even though she would have rather given the man a few well-earned criticisms on his lack of spine. Was this how he presented himself to the Knight Commander? To the Grand Cleric? No wonder they had little or no respect for him.

"He made no secret of it… I'm sure he intended it as another of his statements about closer relations." Dumar frowned. "Your example inspired him, but now is not the time. These matters are… delicate."

"Saemus is politically dangerous, you mean," Hawke said, and this time did not try to hide the edge of derision in her voice. Even in the face of losing his son, he was still concerned with appearances.

"The office must remain strong, Serah Hawke," he replied defiantly, and he finally straightened his posture. Yet to Hawke, he looked as if a stiff wind would blow him over.

She truly didn't know whether to laugh or smack the man. If he'd wanted the office of the Viscount to be strong, he should have handled things quite differently from the beginning. Dumar was nothing more than a pawn in the hands of the true power in Kirkwall, this she knew without a doubt. "The Qunari accept conversions, it's true," she said in an attempt to remain diplomatic, even though her patience was wearing thinner by the moment. "Yet, their requirements are quite strict. If they have accepted Saemus as Viddathari, they deem him worthy."

"I can't understand it," replied Dumar, clearly out of his league. "They must need to bolster their ranks…"

It seemed his son was not the only one the Viscount underestimated. The Arishok would never accept Saemus into the Qun simply to add to their numbers. No, he must believe Saemus had found his purpose. Hawke suddenly wished she'd spent more time with the boy, despite Saemus' warnings that they should not be seen together.

Dumar was speaking again. "I'm sure they consider my son quite the symbolic prize."

Hawke felt the heat of anger rise into her cheeks, but she held her temper, yet again. "Dragging your boy out of the compound will not help matters," she said in careful, measured tones.

"I cannot leave him there!" Dumar nearly shouted, but immediately regained his composure. "The Arishok must see reason. I hope you can convince him that this will only inflame the situation."

That was a bit more than Hawke could take. The nerve of this man! For years he had played the fool, allowing the Qunari to be constantly provoked without reason, and had provided no support, no investigation, that could have brought the situation under control. "The Arishok has not been the one to inflame anything," Hawke bit out. "I think you may want to look closer to home for those who throw fuel on the flames."

Dumar turned his back on her then, so she could barely make out his next words. "Will you talk to him? He must come home. Leave me this one small hope, at least."

Hawke moved to the door, but before she left, there was one more thing she needed to tell him. "You may not like the results."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


Hawke was already in a foul mood, so the gang that ambushed them on their way to the Qunari compound was just what she needed to relieve some of her tension. Poorly skilled thugs came out of the shadows, threatening to do their worst, but with Fenris and Anders beside her, Hawke made short work of them. In the end, it was no more than an annoying delay in her haste to see the Arishok.

"Wonder who hired that lot?" Anders mused aloud. "Anti-Qunari or anti-Viscount? Or perhaps even Saemus himself not wishing to be rescued?"

Hawke shook her head. "No, Saemus wouldn't bother. Whoever it was does not want us going to the compound, which leads me to believe there's something more going on than a simple conversion."

"There is no such thing as a simple conversion to the Qun," Fenris stated as they continued on to the docks.

It came as no surprise to Hawke that the Arishok was expecting them, as the Qunari at the gate opened it without pause. "Your companions are to wait here," he told her. "The Arishok will only see the Basalit-An."

Glancing back at Fenris and Anders with an apologetic shrug, Hawke continued into the compound.

"Hawke," came the growled greeting when she approached the Arishok's throne.

"Tightening security are we?" she asked, noticing the Qunari presence in the compound had doubled. "My friends would've brought no harm to you."

The Arishok leaned forward. "I care little for their feelings on being denied entry. I assume you are here about the Viscount's son?"

As much as she hated to admit it, Hawke couldn't lie to him. "The Viscount asked me to come, to see if perhaps I could talk you into releasing the boy."

"Can you?" The Arishok questioned.

"Tell me this is more than a political maneuver?" Hawke asked quietly. "That your hate for this city hasn't sunk you to the level of playing their game?"

The Arishok shook his head. "In four years I have made no threat, and yet fanatics have lined up to hate us simply because we exist. But despite lies and fear, some still beg me to let them come to the Qun. They hunger for purpose, something you yourself understand."

He was right about that, Hawke couldn't deny it. She was also one who had sought him out, seeking purpose, needing a role in which she could belong. There was a comfort she found only among the Qunari, and she had no doubt the others felt the same way. "And the boy?" she asked.

"He has made a choice," The Arishok said. "Would you deny him that?"

That same choice had haunted her for years, and she could feel it coming to a crux within her. "No, of course not," Hawke said. "But Dumar's opposition is going to exploit this."

"It is not my role to reject the free choice of Viddathari," the Arishok stated. "Whether it be the Viscount's son or the Grand Cleric, herself. The son responded to his own demand of the Qun; he is neither my slave, nor my prisoner. You should understand this."

"I know, and I do," Hawke whispered, feeling somewhat ashamed that she had even come here on behalf of the Viscount. Saemus had made it known a long time ago that he respected the ways of the Qun, as she did, and she wished now she had just told the Viscount she would not involve herself at all. Dumar was clearly using her relationship with the Arishok in an attempt to regain control over his son, in fear of his own political downfall.

"You should ask your Viscount about the boy," the Arishok said, interrupting her thoughts. "He requested they meet in the Chantry, a last pointless appeal I assume."

This new information gave Hawke a bad feeling. "That doesn't make sense," she said. "I just came from the Viscount's office and he said nothing about a meeting..." Realization hit hard in the pit of her stomach. "Mother Petrice. She's set the boy up."

"If she has threatened someone under my command again," the Arishok stated, "there is only one response. In this situation, the demand of the Qun is clear."

And Hawke knew exactly what that response would be, and what the demand would entail. "I was wrong to come here," Hawke admitted to him. "Allow me to fix my mistake, let me take care of this."

The Arishok considered her proposal. For anyone to threaten Viddathari, a member of the Qun, was the final provocation he needed to release his army on Kirkwall. But it was clear this meant something to Hawke, and so he was willing to wait and see how she would handle the situation.

"I will be watching Hawke," he told her. "Do not disappoint me."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

The Chantry was quiet. Too quiet, in Hawke's opinion. She searched the entrance hall, and the towering bronze statue of Andraste caught her eye. Her image was strong, proud, her sword held high. Like Hawke, she'd been a warrior, from Ferelden. Would the founder of the Chantry approve of what it had become over the centuries? Hawke liked to think she would not. That in the beginning, Andraste's motives had been better, purer, than those the current Chantry leaders now held. It was perhaps what attracted Hawke most about the Qun; their utter loathing for deceit and corruption.

As she walked into the Chantry proper, there was not one sign of life. No murmuring voices, no one tending the braziers or sweeping the floors, as was usual. Hawke's instincts moved into high alert. Something was very, very wrong here.

"I'm going up," she told her companions. Fenris and Anders simply nodded, yet Hawke could tell they were also feeling as wary as she was. Anders gripped his staff tightly, the white showing on his knuckles, and she could almost see the faint glow of lyrium emanating from Fenris' tanned skin.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she saw Saemus Dumar kneeling before the railing, his head bowed as if in prayer. Yet, he was too still. Hawke could see no rise and fall of his breath, and when she touched a gentle hand to his shoulder, his body – no his corpse – slumped to the ground. His pale face stared up at her, his startling blue eyes faded into a milky white.

"Serah Hawke," came a familiar voice from below. "Look at what you have done! To pounce upon the Viscount's son – a repentant convert - in the very heart of the Chantry!" There was almost a gleeful tone to Petrice's voice as she added, "A crime with no excuse. Your Qunari master will finally answer…"

Hawke moved to the balcony and looked down. Mother Petrice stood gazing up at her, surrounded by a mob of her _faithful_. Yet, there were also Fenris and Anders, standing quietly in the shadows, waiting.

"Are you mad?" Hawke called down to Petrice. "Your plans have fallen to outright murder?"

"Saemus Dumar deliberately denied the Maker. How many would follow if he went unpunished?" she asked with almost a snarl. "And yet, even this sympathizer will inspire vengeance when his brutal murder is exposed."

Hawke shouldn't have been at all surprised at the flaw in the Mother's reasoning, and felt compelled to point it out to her. "You won't get the Qunari ousted, you'll get a slaughter! On both sides!"

"To die untested would be the real crime," replied Petrice. "People need the opportunity to defend faith – starting with you!" The Mother turned back to her followers and lifted her arms. "Earn your reward! In this life and the next! These heretics must die!"

As they fought and killed, nay slaughtered, Petrice's mob of _faithfuls_ , Hawke felt the bile rise in her throat. These people... they were no more than common folk, who believed a lone woman's delusions, and were willing to sacrifice their very lives for her.

It wasn't right - none of this was right. When the fight was done, Hawke's heart was filled with sadness as she looked down upon the newly made corpses. Petrice had sent them to their certain deaths, just as she had so many Qunari. The woman was so consumed by the idea of eternity, she placed no value on life at all.

Something must be done.

Just as Hawke was about to confront Petrice, Grand Cleric Elthina appeared, walking slowing down the carpeted stairway.

Petrice eagerly approached her. "Do you see, Your Grace? Traitors attacking the very core of the Chantry! They defile with every step."

In a voice more calm than Hawke would have thought possible, Elthina replied, "There is death in every corner, young mother. It is as you predicted, all too well."

Hawke did her best to match Elthina's composure, though her rage was swiftly rising. "Your _young mother_ arranged all of it."

"Don't spout your Qunari filth," spat Petrice. "This is the hand of the Divine!"

"I have ears, Mother Petrice. The Maker would have me use them," said Elthina, this time more heatedly.

"Viscount Dumar's son is dead," Hawke told the Grand Cleric. "Killed here, in your name."

"I'm sure my name won't like that," replied Elthina blandly.

Hawke's entire face began to burn with anger at the woman's flippant words. How dare she! Before Hawke could reply, however, Petrice was speaking again.

"Saemus Dumar was a Qunari convert," said Petrice, her voice becoming agitated. "He came here to repent and was murdered."

"You killed him so no one would follow his free choice!" accused Hawke.

Petrice didn't even look at Hawke, but continued to address Elthina in a pleading manner. "People are leaving us to join _them_ , Your Grace. Something had to be done…"

"Prayer," said Elthina. "We shall pray for them, like any other."

Again, Hawke opened her mouth to call the Grand Cleric out on her hypocrisy, but Elthina did not give her the chance.

"Serah Hawke, you act on behalf of the Viscount?"

Hawke could only nod, her anger was too great and had stolen her voice.

"The young mother has erred in her ways. A court shall decide her fate. The Chantry respects the law, and so must she." Elthina turned and began to ascend the stairway. She called out one last order. "Serah Hawke, send for Viscount Dumar."

"Grand Cleric?" called Petrice in a panicked voice. "Grand Cleric?"

Before Hawke could move or reply, she heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. A lone Qunari had entered the room, a longbow on his back. Their eyes met and held, and in that moment Hawke was sure of his intent. He had come to fulfill his purpose. He had come to take the life of the woman who had wrought so much death upon his people.

"A chance to prove your worth, Sataareth," he said, though he reached for the bow on his back and notched an arrow. Clearly, whatever Hawke's choice, this was the end for Petrice.

For what felt like an eternity, she held the steady gaze of the Qunari, neither flinching nor looking away.

This was it. This was her moment – her choice. And as she searched to the bottom of her heart, she knew it was already made.

Hawke nodded ever so slightly, and saw the Qunari relax his grip on his bow. She glanced briefly over her shoulder, where Petrice was still watching Elthina climb the broad steps, her face a mask of disbelief. Elthina had thrown her young mother to the wolves, and Hawke felt a feral growl escape her throat as she unsheathed her sword.

Wolf she would be then.

Petrice's head whipped around, her eyes huge as she gasped in astonishment at Hawke's raised weapon. A grim smile curved Hawke's lips as she steadied her feet and put all of her strength into the imminent swing of her blade.

One moment, Petrice's head sat squarely on her shoulders. The next, it was rolling across the floor, a look of ghastly horror her death-mask. Hawke barely glanced at her collapsed body, a crimson fountain spewing from her severed neck.

It was done. She had drawn her line in the sand.

No one spoke as Hawke sheathed her sword and steadily walked to the wide doors that would lead her back into the light, but Fenris and Anders followed closely behind her. They may not be Viddathari, but they were true friends, of this she was sure.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

It was almost too much for Hawke to watch Viscount Dumar embrace his son's corpse. It was not so long ago that she had held her mother in the same way, wondering how, or why, such a thing could occur. Both Leandra and Saemus were murdered, needlessly, for the deluded cause of another. In that moment, her heart broke for Dumar, as she knew his pain all too well.

_I have already failed where it mattered most._

Dumar's words resembled her own thoughts. Not one day went by that she didn't feel the same way about her brother, her sister, her parents... what good was skill, or power in the Viscount's case, if you could do nothing to save the ones you loved?

Hawke silently exited the Chantry as the man's tears fell, unwilling to intrude any further on such a private moment. She needed to report back to the Arishok, though she suspected the Qunari who had shown up at the Chantry had already done so. Much to her surprise however, she found herself headed toward Fenris' mansion instead of the docks.

It was her friend she needed now. Not her potential leader.

Fenris extended the bottle of Aggregio to her the moment she crossed the threshold into his study. Hawke gladly accepted, taking a long swig of the wine before settling into the chair across from him. "Expecting me, were you?" she asked with a forced smile.

"I was not certain, but I had suspected," Fenris answered.

"You know me too well," she said, bringing the wine to her lips once more.

Fenris extracted another bottle from the case beside him, allowing her to keep the one she held. "What's on your mind Hawke?"

Hawke chuckled. "Oh I don't know, long day of beheadings and all, I needed to unwind a bit."

He knew her sarcasm was her defense mechanism, having been on the receiving end of her banter quite often. "Mhmm. And you thought you would stop by to get drunk in order to do so?"

"Do you mind?" Hawke asked.

"Of course not, Hawke," Fenris said. "But perhaps we should discuss the real reason you are here."

Always straight to the point, Hawke loved that about Fenris. She had always appreciated his friendship and support throughout the years, but now it seemed he was the only person she could turn to; the only one with whom she could be completely honest when it came to the Qunari. Their presence in Kirkwall was making everyone uncomfortable, and she was certain her interactions with them had more than concerned her friends.

"What have I done Fenris?" she asked, needing his opinion on what had happened with Petrice.

"You have aligned yourself with the Qunari," he replied without hesitation. "Was that not your intention?"

"Was it?" Hawke wondered aloud. The Qunari at the Chantry had allowed her to take on the role of killing Petrice, calling her Sataareth, enforcer and defender of the Qun. "I suppose it was," she continued. "I guess I wasn't prepared for what that would entail."

"She would have died either way, Hawke," Fenris reminded her. "If not you, the Qunari would have executed her for the death of one of their own. It is their way."

" _Their_ way," Hawke whispered to herself. "Now my way? I accepted the role of enforcer; have I become one of them?"

Fenris shook his head. "Only the Arishok can declare you Viddathari, it is not simply decided by your actions alone. Have you spoken to him about your conversion?"

The question took her by surprise, though it shouldn't have, considering how well Fenris knew her. "Not directly, no," Hawke admitted. "But I have a feeling the next time I see him, the topic will come up." She paused for a moment, indulging in more of the Aggregio.

"You have defended them for years, Hawke," Fenris stated. "Done what the Arishok has asked of you, assisted the Qunari wherever needed. Now you have killed for them. This city knows where your allegiance lies. Your companions know, or at least half of them suspect. But only you can decide if that is your wish."

Hawke released a heavy sigh. "And what if it is what I wish?" she asked him. "What if I have found no greater purpose than being among these people, supporting them, fighting for and with them? What happens then, when the Arishok decides he's had enough provocation from Elthina and the zealots, and orders the attack on Kirkwall? The home of people I still care about?"

"Find out why he is here, Hawke," Fenris suggested. "The reason he has remained. If you assist in fulfilling that demand, the Arishok has no cause to stay."

"And then what?" she asked. "I just go with them? Leave Kirkwall?"

Fenris nodded. "For what reason would you remain?" he asked.

A question she had already asked herself many times. "There is only one reason left, Fenris," she admitted. "I made a promise to assist you the day Danarius came for you. I intend to fulfill that promise."

"I would not wish your assistance if it meant you would give up on something you believe in Hawke, a place where you feel you belong," Fenris said. "I know how difficult that is to find."

"You could always come with me," she said with a coy smile.

Fenris laughed. "And join the Qunari? I'll pass, but thank you. Let us find out why the Arishok is here. There will be enough time for speculations on your future later."

Hawke reached out a hand to him, and he accepted it. "Thank you, Fenris," she said. "Your support..."

Fenris gave her a rare smile. "It is mutual Hawke. It has been from the beginning."

"And always will be, Fenris," she said.

They were both quiet for a moment, enjoying what might be their last moment of peace for quite a while. At last, Fenris broke the silence. "Where will you go now?"

Hawke released a heavy sigh. "There is one more thing I must do before I return to the compound," she told him.

"Shall I accompany you?" he asked, making to rise.

"Thank you, Fenris, but no," she replied, her smile more natural this time. "I may end up in the Gallows, and I'll need you to rescue me."


	12. An Unexpected Role

**Chapter Title: An Unexpected Role**  
 **Written by: LucienGrey, FenZev, & Wintryone **  
**Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Exhausted by her efforts, Hawke seeks release and solace within the Qun.**

* * *

She felt somewhat better after her talk with Fenris but, the closer she came to the Chantry, the more Hawke's ire began to burn. She didn't want to confront Elthina with her emotions ruling her. In Hawke's opinion, the Grand Cleric was a master manipulator, which made her best option cold reason, rather than impassioned argument.

She paused at the wide doors, considering what she was about to do. Was there purpose in her actions? What would she accomplish by confronting Elthina, other than the relief of finally exposing the Chantry's corruption? Hawke was amazed at how much Qunari philosophy was already influencing her thinking - even her decisions. Without a greater purpose, what she was about to do was no more than a selfish release of her own frustrations.

As if the admission had opened a window in her mind, sudden realization dawned. There _was_ purpose in her actions. Hawke could perhaps save the suffering of countless innocents, only by letting the Grand Cleric know that someone else, someone also in a position of power, knew her dark and dirty secrets. Even if Elthina decided to enact revenge upon her, Hawke was sure that soon she would have more protection than ever - within the Qun.

Hawke slipped through the doors and made her way to the stairs that led to the platform where Elthina was usually to be found, standing under the giant bronzed statue of Andraste. The icon gave Hawke added courage, as she remembered her earlier thoughts: A Ferelden warrior trying to right a great wrong, just as Hawke was attempting to do now.

"Serah Hawke," Elthina called down in a tired, exasperated tone. "Hasn't enough blood been spilled for one day?"

"You tell me," Hawke replied, gazing up at the Grand Cleric. "After all, this was all _your_ doing."

Elthina raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And I suppose you're going to fill me in on exactly what I've done wrong?"

"Do I need to?" Hawke questioned as she ascended the stairs. "Where shall I begin? The corruption of the Chantry? The torture chambers in the dungeons below our very feet? Or perhaps the fact that you knew full well what Petrice was doing all along, and not only did nothing to stop her, but promoted her to Chantry Mother? Tell me, Grand Cleric, just how much blood has been spilled because of your actions, or rather, inactions?"

Other than a slight twitch in her left eye, Elthina's expression did not change. She regarded Hawke cooly, a near smile curving her lips. "You assume a great deal."

Hawke inhaled a long, slow breath, determined to remain as detached as the Grand Cleric. "I _assume_ nothing," Hawke countered. "Everything I've learned I have either witnessed first hand, or received from impeccably trusted sources."

"You have proof of your accusations, Serah Hawke?" she asked, and seemed amused, as if Hawke were a small child, accusing her parent of wrongdoing.

There was very little in the way of concrete proof for most of what she'd learned, it was true. But Hawke still had one more ace up her sleeve. "Tell me, Your Grace, was it you who had Perrin Threnhold poisoned? Or was it Meredith?"

Finally, a reaction. Two spots of color bloomed high on Elthina's cheeks. "Tread carefully, Hawke."

"To what purpose?" Hawke asked. "Viscount Dumar is nothing more than a Chantry puppet, put in the Office by you." Hawke folded her arms across her chest. "What game are you playing at? Torture? Murder? All in the name of the Maker?" Hawke glanced up at Andraste's statue. "I doubt your beloved savior would approve."

"How dare you assume to know the will of Andraste!" Elthina said, her composure broken. "I do what is best for all people, not just a chosen few!"

Hawke snorted. "Unless the people happen to be elves, or dwarves, or mages," Hawke countered. "Admit it, Elthina," Hawke said, dropping the honorific. "You are no better than any other tyrant in Thedas - grabbing after power and influence. In fact, you're worse, because you pretend to serve the Maker while you do it."

"Get out!" shouted Elthina, and Hawke could now see the true face she wore behind her usual veneer of calm amusement. It was an ugly face, filled with rage and hatred, and there was a malevolent light shining in the Grand Cleric's eyes. "You will leave immediately, and if you walk through these hallowed doors again, your life will be forfeit!"

Hawke smiled grimly and bowed slightly at her waist. "As you wish, Grand Cleric," she said. "But know this - I will not fade silently into the shadows. I will tell anyone who will listen exactly what it is you're doing here - what you've done." Hawke turned and began to descend the stairs, before looking back one last time. "Your tyranny will end. Elthina. This I promise you."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Infuriated. That was Hawke's only emotion as she descended the stairs toward the Qunari compound. She'd kept her composure in front of Elthina, it was true, but the minute she'd walked out the Chantry doors, her rage had returned full force, and had been growing ever since. Whatever doubts she had about joining the Qun were gone. Regardless of some of their barbaric ways, or how they felt the need to handle their mages, there was certainty. Assuredness. A role which was clear and defined. Within the Qun, there was no malice, no need for conspiracy or lies... it just _was_ , and that's exactly what Hawke had been searching for, even before she truly knew it.

As she approached the bottom of the stairs that led from Lowtown to the docks, Hawke noticed several lit torches held aloft against the darkness, in a small group of people directly in front of her. It was nearly midnight; a gathering this late certainly looked out of place, especially in this normally quiet end of Kirkwall. Curious what they were up to, Hawke approached, caring little for the fact that she was alone.

"Serah Hawke," one of the women stepped forward. "You will answer for your crimes!"

Hawke laughed. "Alright, I'll bite. What exactly am I answering for?" Glancing at the crowd behind the bold woman, Hawke counted ten, maybe twelve men and women? All with little to no armor, not really a match for a skilled warrior such as herself.

"You murdered Mother Petrice, in the heart of the Chantry!" the woman exclaimed loudly. "And in defense of these heathen oxmen that refuse to leave our city!" She nodded toward the compound but kept her eyes on Hawke. "You will pay serah, with your life!"

Before the words had left her throat, Hawke unsheathed her sword and prepared for battle. With lightning-quick movement she lunged forward, striking the woman square in the chest, her mouth still open as she fell to the ground.

A whirlwind of activity happened next, as the rest of the crowd descended upon Hawke. They were not skilled fighters, but their numbers were a challenge. Hawke swung her sword in a wide, horizontal sweep, quickly and precisely, without harming anyone. It was a warning, her last, that they did not need to continue on this path.

The angry mob did not back down. And so Hawke fought, twisting and turning, ducking and dodging the swords, daggers, and torches that came at her. Silently, she thanked the Maker that there were no mages in the group, but her adrenaline was only going to take her so far. The crowd was exhausting her, as she spent more time defending than attacking. They were relentless, caring little about their fallen comrade, prepared to join her should Hawke choose to run them through. Sadly, she saw no choice, as they were more than willing to kill her.

Suddenly, a man in the group shouted, "Andraste save us!" and several stopped their assault long enough to follow the man's gaze. The Arishok and two of his men approached from the compound, his large axe almost as intimidating as he was. Hawke realized, in that split second of calm, that none of these people had ever seen the Qunari leader before, and for the first time they were faced with the person they unjustly hated.

The Arishok did not hesitate in his attack. He swung his axe toward the group as the other Qunari assumed flanking positions, now surrounding the mob as they had surrounded Hawke. A few were able to run before the Qunari engaged, but more than half remained. From the outside, the Arishok and his men attacked, and from within Hawke assisted, taking down the rest of the zealots with ease.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Fighting beside him had been exhilarating. Their previous duel was nothing compared to what had just happened, having the Arishok and two of his men battle beside her. But as they returned to the compound, Hawke was again left on this adrenaline high - built up energy, frustration, and anguish eating away at her insides.

She glanced at the Arishok, noting how his skin glistened in the moonlight with the sweat of battle. As it had from the first time she saw him, being near him sent a warmth flooding through her, and a wanting so strong she could barely contain it. He appeared so calm, so collected, Hawke wondered how he did it. Here she was nearly coming apart at the seams, and there he stood, his strength and beauty a symbol of calm and peace.

What she wouldn't give to feel that way.

The Arishok caught her stare, and with a slight nod, the other Qunari that had assembled in the area now retreated below the compound. It wasn't until she heard the creak of the front gate that she realized the guard who normally stood vigil outside the entrance had also left, locking the gate before doing so. They were alone, and it wasn't fear that Hawke felt.

It was excitement.

"What is it you want, Hawke?" The Arishok asked as he approached, and then circled where she stood in the center of the compound. His deep, rumbling voice sent a shiver down her spine.

After he had dismissed the others, she'd wondered what he had in mind. Now he stalked her, an animal hunting its prey, and her body craved him. Residual adrenaline coursed through her veins, from killing Petrice, confronting Elthina, the fight with the zealots... she was desperate for the release she knew only he could give her.

Hawke suspected the Arishok was well aware of this, as he continued to pace, waiting for her to admit what she wanted, _needed_ , from him. After her mother was murdered, and she had come to him, she had been overwhelmed by the intensity between them, and had hoped he would initiate a physical distraction other than combat. Now she realized why he hadn't.

It was her choice. Every encounter, every decision, they were not tests. They were courtesies. She had earned his respect, and he returned it the only way he knew how; allowing her the freedom to choose within her role. As Basalit-An, as potential Viddathari, and as Hawke. This too was hers; a choice, if she wanted it.

And she did. Her understanding only increased her desire, and Hawke knew it was time to show him exactly what she wanted. Reaching out a hand to grab his arm, she stopped his pacing. His eyes bore down on her, narrowing slightly as he inhaled sharply. Her body would answer the question for her.

The Arishok gripped her much smaller hand that held his arm, and captured her gaze with unrelenting intensity. It was slightly unnerving, how he didn't blink, but already Hawke felt a surge of warmth pulse through her under his penetrating gaze. She loosened her fingers to release her hold on him, and he in turn released her hand. Without a word, and without breaking their visual contact, he began removing his armor.

Hawke stood, frozen, desire radiating through her. She hadn't noticed that her breathing became heavier until she heard that his did as well. His pauldrons fell heavily to the ground, followed by his leather skirt, gauntlets, and the straps that crossed his chest. Eyes still fixed on hers, all that remained of his clothing were his pants and boots. Shaky hands reached out to touch him, but the Arishok swiftly grabbed her wrists.

"This is not the way of the Qun," the Arishok stated through heavy breaths. "Know that you are an exception."

The sexual tension between them was reaching its climax, and Hawke's nervous anticipation of what was to come nearly distracted her from his words. It was not their way, yet he was making an exception for her? She didn't want him to do anything that would jeopardize his role or position. "Would there be consequences?" she asked, as disappointment slowly washed over her.

"There is precedence enough for justification," the Arishok said with certainty, as he took a step closer to her, still clutching her wrists between them. He lowered his head to her neck, and inhaled her scent again. "As it is clear you need this, my role to assist is also clear."

His warm breath distracted her from any further questions, as she held her own in anticipation. The sharp exhale below her ear caused her flesh to pebble, and a soft tingling sensation began to radiate through her core. The Arishok released her wrists; Hawke moved her hands up to his chest again, and this time he allowed her touch. As her fingers spread across his flesh in exploration, a low groan escaped his lips. The carnal sound both excited and terrified her.

"Remove your clothes Hawke," the Arishok demanded, taking a step back to break from her wandering hands. She did as he commanded without question, slowly pulling her sword from her back and placing it carefully upon the ground. With surprisingly steady hands, she unbuckled her armor, her gaze still locked with his. The sensations that moved through her body as she revealed herself to him were more erotic than anything Hawke had ever experienced. This was purpose, in a way she'd been searching for her whole life. When at last she stood before him, straight and proud in only her underclothes, she eagerly awaited his next demand.

The Arishok released a low, husky grunt of approval as he brought a clawed hand to her chest. Trailing from her neck, around and under her breast, his sharp talon left a slight red mark on her pale flesh before he slid it toward her sternum and tore the breast band at its center. The protective cups fell to her sides, her breasts released from their restriction, and a rough hand moved over her small, now very sensitive, nipple. Hawke gasped at his touch, and leaning her head back, presented her neck to him.

The shock of his swiftness in taking her offering and biting into the skin just below her ear caused Hawke to release a surprised whimper. She felt his tongue follow his teeth, licking the wound he had just created as his hand cupped her other breast. Another harsh nip at her skin sent a surge of warmth between her legs, as he pinched her sensitized nipple between his strong fingers until it was nearly painful.

Hawke was thankful that his next move was to wrap his arm around her waist, as her legs had become weak in the knees. He pulled her body into his as he again inhaled sharply, and Hawke could feel his need for her pressed hard against her stomach. Without warning, he lifted her onto his shoulder and began to carry her toward the hovel behind his makeshift throne. He was going to give her the release she needed, and it was going to happen now.

Hawke, both nervous and excited, grinned behind his back as he ascended the stairs.

Her breasts were pressed against his back, and she struggled to ignore the tickling of his earrings against her ribs. With every step he took, her desire increased, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His face was so close to her sex that it must be overwhelmingly obvious how badly she wanted him.

When they reached his rough bedchamber, and the Arishok slid her back down to her feet, the friction between their bodies was nearly her undoing. Her sensitive nipples grazed across his shoulder and over the smooth skin of his chest, her breathing became heavier. This was really happening, she was about to freely give herself to him. And while she had complete faith in her decision to submit, her fear was that she'd disappoint him in some way.

The Arishok looked down, his own heaving chest pushing into hers, and with a gentleness that surprised her, he caressed her cheek with the back of his finger. Hawke lifted her chin to look into his eyes, copying his gesture with her own hand. The skin of his face felt rough compared to the softness of his chest. She reached up further, daring to touch one of the four horns she had admired so often. With a soft grunt, he lowered his head to her, allowing her to explore.

She was curious if her touch was having any effect on him, but Hawke didn't ask. When she traced the edges of his ear with her finger and he nipped at her neck in response, she knew at least that was something he enjoyed. Lifting her heels, Hawke used her tongue to trace his ear, and the Arishok released an almost tortured sounding moan.

"Lay down Hawke," he ordered, as he pulled away from her to sit on the lone chair in the hovel.

Hawke did as told, finding his soft bed of fur-lined blankets to rest upon. Brazenly, she removed what remained of her breastband, and slipped her underwear down her long legs, before she tossed them aside.

The Arishok watched her intently as he unlaced his boots, running his gaze along her naked body. Hawke lay on her back, arms above her head, and arched her spine in a long, languid stretch. When she glanced back at the Arishok, she noticed he had stopped attending to his boots and was watching her, his expression hungry. She smiled inwardly, enjoying the obvious effect she was having on him.

What she didn't expect was how quickly he joined her on the blankets, grabbed her ankles, and spread her legs so they parted wide. Her inner thighs tickled as his horns grazed her flesh, followed by the cold metal of his earrings. His sharp teeth nipped along her inner leg and thigh, until he was staring up at her from between her legs. Hawke was panting, her anticipation and excitement building to a near intolerable level.

The Arishok closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her arousal, and Hawke bucked at the feel of his nose nudging the flesh just below her brown curls. She grabbed fistfuls of the blanket beneath her when she felt the warmth of his tongue begin to sweep along her her most vulnerable flesh. Long strokes of his rough tongue tormented her as he tasted her, moaning into her with a low growl that sent vibrations into the very center of her being. He was slow, deliberate and unrelenting as he fed upon her. Hawke was already close to orgasm, her body struggling against her attempts at resisting, as the Arishok continued his relentless devouring. She writhed beneath him, unable to break free as strong, clawed hands gripped her hips, keeping her in place. In a matter of seconds, she was pushed beyond all thought and reason, and from the skill of his tongue alone, her body exploded into a sea of sensations and warmth. So intense were the clenching waves of pleasure, Hawke's hands flew to grasp the curve of his horns, needing something to hold onto, as she flew apart in a release too long denied.

"Now you are ready," the Arishok stated when she finally relaxed her grip on him. He pulled away from her, while all she could do was attempt to regain her breath. His gaze never leaving hers, he stood and removed his pants, freeing himself for her to see.

Hawke's eyes widened involuntarily. The Arishok was certainly a large man, and now she knew that everything about him was just as big. It was obvious from his size and girth how ready he was for her, as well. He returned to the bed and hovered over her, as Hawke braced herself, hoping that her smaller, human body could accommodate him.

Balancing his weight on one arm, the Arishok grazed her cheek again with the other. "Relax, Kadan," he whispered, seeing the trepidation in her eyes.

It was trust he was really asking for, Hawke knew this, and she found she could give it to him completely. The haze of her previous orgasm had slowly lifted, and now she felt her desire stir again in anticipation, desperately wanting to feel the fullness of him deep within her body. She held his arms and kept her eyes locked with his, giving him a nod to let him know she was ready.

The Arishok did not take her as she had expected. He was slow to enter her, allowing her body the time it needed to conform to his size. Each stroke was gentle as he pushed into her inch by inch, carefully watching her for any sign of discomfort. Hawke relaxed into the initial pain, her trust in him absolute. The more she surrendered to him, the easier his progress became, and she encouraged him by arching her back, lifting herself off the soft blanket so that he could penetrate more deeply inside of her.

It wasn't long before she had accepted all of him.

Only then did his rhythm begin to increase, matched by her thrusts, giving her as much as she hinted she needed. The fullness of him reached places within her that had never been touched before, and the sensations remained both of pain and pleasure. Until... until she could no longer distinguish between the two, or perhaps they merged into one, because it was unlike any pleasure she'd ever felt. The intensity, the heat, his slick thrusts perfectly in sync with hers. Hawke's grip on his arms tightened as his pace increased, their eyes locked just as their bodies were.

That strong, lovely sensation began to claim her again, and Hawke titled her head back in anticipation. The Arishok thrust into her more forcefully, feeling her muscles clamp down around him, and gave her the added push that she needed to find her release once again. Ripples of ecstasy flooded through her, and in that final shattering moment, her nails dug into his flesh, leaving crimson, half-moon cuts on his biceps.

Weakened from her second orgasm, Hawke could barely move as the Arishok shifted his hands under her back. He pulled her toward him, pressing her chest against his once more, and changed their position so that he was now on his back and she on top of him. The rise and fall of his labored breathing matched her own ragged breaths, and it wasn't until she felt his rigid shaft twitch inside her that Hawke realized they were still very intimately connected.

And he had not been sated.

Relying on her warrior's stamina, Hawke gathered her strength and sat up. The Arishok looked up at her with a curious glance as she slowly began to move on top of him, gyrating her hips in slow, insistent circles. It was her turn to fulfill her role, to satisfy him, and the fact that he would allow her to be in control like this sparked a renewed excitement within her.

He had not expected this. Her palms rested gently on his broad chest, and her movements caused him to involuntarily jerk upward to match her rhythm. The Arishok stared intently into her eyes, as Hawke continued to gauge his reaction, increasing her speed as he shifted beneath her. His purpose was to give her the release she had been seeking. That she was doing the same for him was unexpected, though not unwelcomed.

Gripping her thighs with clawed hands, the Arishok stopped her frantic pace momentarily as he sat up, pressing his chest into hers. Her skin was soft, despite the sculpted muscles of her strong arms. It was a sensation unfamiliar to him, this appreciation of a human female. Her warrior's stamina could match any of his previous partners, yet she was vulnerable, could easily be harmed. Hawke held many contradictions, and the more his understanding of her increased, the more his respect for her grew.

Hawke sucked in a startled breath as she felt his hard length move within her, even though their bodies remained completely still. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she began to slowly rotate her hips in his lap, wanting to explore this new sensation as he allowed her to set her own pace.

It would not be for long. The Arishok's ragged breaths, and his tightening grip digging into her flesh, let Hawke know he was close to his own release. She allowed her head to fall back, submitting to him once more. The sharp pain of his teeth grazing her throat was her only warning, before his pulsating climax ripped through his body. His bruising hold on her became painful, and a long, low groan tore from his throat. Hawke held herself completely still, reveling in the power of his release. She felt an echo of her own pleasure slide through her as he finally gave into his body's demands. A deep satisfaction filled her heart, as she watched him surrender to the final throes of his climax.

Moments later, the Arishok slowly moved his hands from her thighs to her back. Hawke felt as if it was nearly an embrace, though he did not pull her closer. Instead, his tongue traced the marks he'd made on her throat as he fought to regain his breath. When she dared to glance at his expression, she noticed for the first time since they began, that his eyes were closed.

Hesitantly, Hawke ran her fingers along his strong shoulders in an attempt to coax him back to her. Realizing, a little too late, that she knew very little of the sexual habits of Qunari, she wondered what she should do next.

After a few minutes of silence, the Arishok brought his breath back to its usual slow, calm exhalations. He kept one arm around her back as he shifted, laying her down on the blanket beside him. The sudden parting of their bodies left an empty feeling within her, a connection she immediately missed.

The Arishok turned to lay beside her on his back, his eyes still closed. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, and then allowed herself one more pleasure, as her eyes ran down the massive length of his naked form. He truly was magnificent, and he had given her exactly what she'd needed for so very, very long. The experience had outshone every dream she'd ever had of him, and although she was bruised and aching, she'd never felt more satisfied, more peaceful, in her entire life.

Feeling brave without his powerful gaze upon her, Hawke leaned over to caress his cheek, and then pressed her lips to his. The Arishok did not respond - she did not expected him to - so she only lingered for a few seconds before pulling away. "Thank you," she whispered, before laying back down. Curling into the side of his chest, Hawke was asleep only moments later.

The Arishok opened his eyes and turned his head to watch her sleep, as he had done once before, his lips still tingling from her gentle touch.


	13. Countdown

**Chapter Title: Countdown**  
Written by: FenZev, Wintryone,  & LucienGrey  
Beta'd by: Erana  
Chapter Summary: On the knife's edge, Hawke races to prevent a war. 

* * *

  
****Existence is a choice.  
 __There is no chaos in the world, only complexity.  
Knowledge of the complex is wisdom.  
From wisdom of the world comes wisdom of the self.  
Mastery of the self is mastery of the world. Loss of the self is the source of suffering.  
Suffering is a choice, and we can refuse it.  
It is in our power to create the world, or destroy it.*  


The Arishok read the passage several times, attention drifting between the words on the page to Hawke's sleeping form in his bed. These were the words he was raised on and lived by, what was demanded of him and defined within his role. To read them was to be comforted within the certainty of himself, and within them he hoped to now offer that comfort to her. _There is no chaos in the world, only complexity._

Hawke was the very definition of complex. She defied him, but submitted to him. She questioned him, yet did not doubt him. She was stronger than many capable soldiers under his command, but also vulnerable in ways even she did not yet comprehend. One contradiction after another. _Knowledge of the complex is wisdom._

He knew her well. And knew she had lost herself, which had led to her own suffering. Although now, after last night, he believed she understood that her pain had always been a choice, and by coming to him, she was choosing to finally refuse it. Their joining had been just that; the release of her suffering, and also the completion of his understanding of Hawke. Human. Warrior. Woman. _From wisdom of the world comes wisdom of the self._

In this, they had helped each other. All within the laws of the Qun. _Mastery of the self is mastery of the world...it is in our power to create the world, or destroy it._

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

It took Hawke a minute or so to remember where she was when she awoke. The slight sting of pain on her neck reminded her quickly that she was still at the compound, and the soft furs beneath her naked body were that of the Arishok's bed. A quick stretch of her arms and legs while under the protection of his blanket told her that she was as sore as she had anticipated. A visit to Anders would probably be in order.

Lifting herself onto her elbows, her gaze fell upon the Arishok, seated at his table. While he had a book laid out before him, it was her that he was staring at so intently. "Good morning," she said, before wondering idly if the Qunari greeted each other in such ways.

"Is it?" he asked, closing the book while continuing to watch her.

Hawke smiled. "I believe so," she responded. Glancing around the private chambers, she noticed her clothes and armor were both neatly stacked within arms reach. Considering last night, she cared little if the Arishok saw her naked, and Hawke pulled back the blanket and began getting dressed.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

The question surprised her, coming from him. Was he inquiring on a physical, or an emotional level? Assuming he could surmise what her body felt like, she contemplated the latter. How could she adequately describe to him what she was feeling? There were many different ways to answer him, and she wondered just what was he looking for in an answer?

"Do not search for what you think I want to hear," the Arishok said, eerily echoing her internal dialogue.

"Alright," Hawke agreed, sitting back on the blankets to pull on her boots. She paused to meet his eye while she answered. "I feel free. Confident. Sure of myself now, though I never realized I had doubted myself. I feel as if, for the first time in my life, I am headed in the right direction. And there is no longer fear of an unknown future."

The Arishok nodded. "That certainty is the way of the Qun," he said, acknowledging her understanding.

Still naked from the waist up, Hawke pulled her knees into her chest and hugged her legs. "And if I said I wished to remain feeling this way?" she asked. "Would I be accepted, and have a role to fulfill within the Qun?"

It was the first time she had vocalized a desire to be converted, and the Arishok asked for confirmation. "You wish to become Viddathari?"

"I do," Hawke replied without hesitation. "I've lived a lifetime with doubt and uncertainty, I do not wish to do it any longer."

Again, the Arishok nodded. "Then it is done."

His quick acceptance caused her to involuntarily smile, and with renewed purpose, she continued to dress. Noticing her torn breastband was not among her other clothes, she went without, slipping into her shirt and then her armor. As she fastened buckles and tied laces, she took advantage of her new role as a convert. "May I ask you a question?"

"You may, Kadan."

"The reason you've remained in Kirkwall?" Hawke asked. "You've never told me exactly why and I'd like to know, if that's alright."

Seeing she had finished dressing, the Arishok gestured for her to join him in a walk toward the compound center. As they did so, he told her what was keeping him in a city he so despised.

"The Tome of Koslun," he began, "is a sacred text written by Ashkaari Koslun, the founder of the Qun. Its pages contain the very code by which we live. The Orlesians have been in possession of the tome for many years, but as part of a peace agreement, they offered to return it. I was sent to retrieve it, and failed."

"Someone got to it first," Hawke stated, recalling how he told her that "filth" had stolen from him years ago.

"Yes. Without it, I cannot return to Par Vollen, and neither may any under my command. Until the demand of the Qun is met, we are denied our home."

The hint of sadness within his tone told Hawke that his behavior throughout the years had been more than frustration with the obvious corruption in Kirkwall. It was disappointment in himself for failing his mission, which prevented his people from going back to the place where they felt certainty and acceptance.

The Arishok paused at the top of the stairs leading to the underground of the compound. Hawke tried to contain her excitement at finally seeing the rest of the place the Qunari had inhabited for the last few years. After what he had just told her, she knew this wasn't "home" for them, but she was curious what went on down there.

"Remember Hawke," the Arishok said in a warning tone, "you are now Viddathari, and as such have agreed to assist in all demands of the Qun, whatever they may be."

She tried to ignore the tightening pit in her stomach that came with his warning, as she followed him below the compound.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


One day. Twenty-four hours.

It seemed an impossible task that she'd set for herself, but considering everything she'd learned at the compound, she knew the Arishok's patience was at an end. It wasn't as if Hawke blamed him. There was most certainly a part of her own mind that believed a thorough cleansing was exactly what Kirkwall needed. There were too many innocent lives at stake, and too many people she cared about who called the city home. It was a near miracle that the Arishok had granted her request for this single day to find the Tome and restore it to him. Hawke didn't think it was her imagination that he had done this for her, more so than for the city itself. If he respected her even half as much as she did him, then his boon should be no surprise. Still, her human heart could not help but fill with a deep satisfaction that it was so.

Now, however, her heart was beating hard in her chest as she raced up the long stairway that led from the docks up to Lowtown. By the time she pushed through the door of the Hanged Man, her head was pounding too. Her only thought was to find Varric.

Varric, the one person in Kirkwall who could find anything or anyone, given enough coin and… enough time. Another rush of fear washed through her, because the one thing she didn't have was time. Varric was her best option, and the only place she knew to begin.

The dwarf was in a corner, at a round table, playing cards with Fenris and Anders. All three of them looked up expectantly when she approached.

They all spoke at once.

"What has upset you, Hawke?" asked Fenris.

"You look like you just fought an ogre," remarked Varric.

"Maker Hawke, what happened?" asked Anders, and he stood up to get a better look at her neck.

It was the oddest thing, because suddenly, she couldn't make her mouth work.

The three men shared a look, then surrounded her and unceremoniously ushered her up to Varric's room.

"Corff," called Varric to the bartender, "bring up some pints."

Pints sounded good to Hawke, because her throat was also suddenly very dry.

"What kind of monster did you fight?" asked Anders as he inspected the bite marks, pushing at the skin with gentle yet expert fingers. He gave her no chance to respond as he sat her in a chair and continued on in a berating tone, "You'd think you'd take better care of yourself and at least drink a healing potion. You know how easily open wounds go putrid."

She nodded half heartedly, as she tried to figure out how to explain what was happening.

"Spill it Hawke," said Varric. "What have you been up to, and why did you do it without us?"

Fenris had gone quiet, eying her speculatively. Hawke locked her gaze with his, drawing strength from the one person outside of the Qun who she knew truly understood her. His unwavering though silent support began to loosen the tensed muscles, and she swallowed hard, wishing Corff would hurry with the ale.

Anders had already started to clean her wounds with a warm cloth, and it wasn't long before she felt his familiar brand of healing magic wash over her skin. The bites had not caused her more than the slightest stinging pain, but Anders was right about infection, and she accepted his healing gratefully.

Only seconds had passed, but Hawke felt them intensely, knowing how much each one counted. She shifted her gaze to Varric and finally was able to say, "I need to find out if there is an old book, an ancient tome, being offered for sale in the undercity. Or, if purchased already, who has it."

Varric chuckled. "Didn't know you were that big of a reader, Hawke."

She bit down on her impatience and tried again. "Listen to me, Varric. I know why the Qunari have never left Kirkwall. It had nothing to do with the Chantry's corruption. In fact, I think the Arishok would have left the city to happily rot, if it weren't for this book."

"You're working for the Qunari now, Hawke?" asked Anders as he sent a final wave of healing over her.

"Where have you been, Blondie?" asked Varric. "Hawke's been spending most of her time at the Qunari compound these days."

"That's not what's important," Hawke nearly shouted. Now that her voice had returned, she had a lot she needed to tell them. "We need to stay focused, or we'll have a slaughter on our hands."

"The Arishok has prepared an attack," remarked Fenris calmly.

Hawke was grateful someone was taking her seriously. "Yes, and I've only got twenty-four hours to prevent it."

Varric let out a low whistle. "That can't be good."

"It's not good, Varric," she said. "There's a book, very important to the Qunari," she said. "It's called the Tome of Koslun."

"The Tome of Koslun?" Fenris repeated. "Hawke, that book is sacred to the Qunari. It's loss would be enough to start a war."

"I know, Fenris," she said. "And they just may do so, if I can't find it and return it to the Arishok."

"Though Koslun's words have been copied and translated into many books, there is only one Tome," Fenris went on. "It was written in the Ashkaari's own hand, and would be a priceless artifact, much like if Andraste had left a written record for the Chantry."

"The Arishok told me that Orlais had agreed to return it to them, and it was stolen before he could reclaim it," said Hawke.

"Yes," said Fenris. "Orlais had claimed the tome as spoils of war during the Exalted Marches against the Qunari."

"But who stole it?" asked Varric. "That's the real question."

Something was niggling at the back of Hawke's mind. Something about how the Qunari dreadnought was chasing...

"And why do they think it's in Kirkwall?" Varric added, interrupting her thoughts.

"The Arishok only told me that "filth" stole it, and they followed the trail here," Hawke replied. Her stomach was churning with worry, as she fought to put the pieces together in her mind. "We've got to find it."

Varric put a hand to his chin. "Hmmm," he sounded. "Who could have it I wonder? Who would even want to buy something like that?"

"The Qunari have many enemies," said Fenris.

Corff walked in then, carrying a tray laden with pints. He began to distribute them among the party, and Hawke grabbed hers eagerly and took a long drink.

"I don't understand religious people," said Anders. "It's just a dusty old relic."

Before Hawke could respond, Corff interrupted. "Relic? That's funny."

Hawke was ready to send the bartender away, but Varric said, "How so, Corff?"

"Second time I heard somebody mention a relic today, is all," he replied.

Hawke knocked over her pint, she stood up so fast. "Who? Who mentioned it?"

"A man came in today, looking for somebody called Wall-eyed Sam," replied Corff. "Mentioned a relic. I told him he was daft."

"That's a funny name," said Anders with a grin.

Hawke shot the mage a dirty look and turned back to Varric. "Can you find Wall-eyed Sam, Varric?" she asked. She reached for her belt, removed her coinpurse and tossed it to the dwarf.

Varric caught it easily, and weighed it in his hand. "You know me, Hawke. With enough coin, I can find anything."

"Good," she said hastily. "I'm going back to the estate to take care of a few things. Bring word to me there the minute you find out anything."

Varric nodded. "Sure thing, Hawke."

"And hurry!" she said again, moving quickly toward the stairs. Her breath was coming fast, and there was an odd, coppery taste in her mouth.

"Hawke, wait," said Fenris. "I shall accompany you."

Hawke only nodded, exiting the Hanged Man with haste, Fenris following closely behind.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


The crowd in Lowtown did nothing to calm her nerves. People everywhere, bustling to and fro, living out their lives as if this were any normal day. For most of them, it could very well be their last. This thought alone caused her heart to increase its incessant pounding in her chest. They didn't know, remained oblivious, to the threat that lingered only a few blocks away.

Women with their children, browsing the stalls of the merchants that were lined up in every spare bit of space. Men hustling to make a living, bartering and bargaining with any who happened to even glance their way. Elves that dared to venture out of the alienage, slipping in and out of the shadows to observe the humans, sating their curiosity. It all seemed so natural, so ordinary, so typical of a day in Lowtown.

Tomorrow the streets would run red with their blood if she could not find this one book in the maze of Kirkwall streets - assuming it was still within the city at all. The odds were stacked against her, and with each second that passed, her chances of success were slipping away, never to return. These final twenty-fours hours of peace were an illusion, created by an ignorance among the masses of what was really going on in the city . Hawke could almost see the streets and alleys of Lowtown littered with corpses, strewn about like so many broken and discarded dolls. These simple folk would not survive such a slaughter, and if she failed in her task, Hawke could be the one to end their lives.

She quickened her pace as she nearly ran through the lower part of Kirkwall, skipping up the stairs two steps at a time in her hurry to reach Hightown. There was nothing else she could do until Varric found Sam, so right now she only knew she must get home. She needed to warn those that had served her. Had to prepare for both an imminent war, and the possibility of leaving forever.

There was no time; there just wasn't enough time!

The maelstrom inside her chest was building to such a degree, Hawke found it almost impossible to take a full breath. All of her warrior's training seemed to be buried under the avalanche of outright panic moving through her body, as her mind continue to spin out tales of certain doom. Her night of certainty and peace seemed like a distant dream, as tendrils of terror moved down her spine like slithering, biting snakes. She knew her fear was the real enemy, but could not wrest away from its tightening grip.

When they reached the landing in between Lowtown and Hightown, Fenris gripped her arm and pulled her toward the wall. "Hawke," he said in as calm a tone as possible.

Hawke shook her head, despising the delay. Every second mattered, every precious second. "Let go Fenris," she warned. "I have to get home."

"Talk to me Hawke," he said, emerald eyes wide with concern.

Resting briefly against the wall, trying to calm her heavily beating heart, she met his gaze and nearly crumbled. "He's going to invade Kirkwall," she whispered through dry lips, as if it were her own confession. "He has hundreds, maybe a thousand warriors, that have been preparing for this for years. The Antaam, Karataam, Viddathari, all waiting for his final word. It is their only purpose come this time tomorrow."

The moment Fenris released her, Hawke continued her ascension into Hightown, although she slowed her pace slightly. "Dozens of maps," she continued as they walked, "with every strike location prepared, every important noble labelled. There is no countermeasure this city could come up with in time to prevent the utter destruction he is intending."

"Hawke," Fenris tried to get her attention again, but she pulled away from him and pressed on.

"The ship is moving into position tonight," she informed him. "A hundred or more soldiers prepared to block the Gallows and any possible Templar interference. By the time any of them make it through the blockade, the Qunari will have conquered the city and gathered the nobles for the Qunari brand of enlightenment. We already know they have the qamek in Kirkwall, should any choose to resist..."

Fenris grabbed her arm again and pulled her behind one of the merchant stalls. "You must regain control of yourself Hawke," he said sternly. "For one, you are speaking loudly enough for any number of people to hear you. And, if you have truly converted, discussing this even with me could be considered treason."

Hawke shook her head. "I am not sworn to secrecy," she informed him, "though I am bound to fight beside them." Her body trembled within his grasp, her frantic thoughts causing panic to push past all her attempts at control. "He has done nothing to harm this city," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. "And yet they have pushed him to his breaking point. I wouldn't care if only those who are culpable would suffer his retribution, but there are so many innocent people..." Hawke glanced around the busy market of Hightown. "I can't disagree with his decision, but the consequences of his actions will hurt people I love. Fenris, I'm terrified I won't be able to stop this from happening!"

He did not turn away from her as he spoke, but instead placed a hand on each of her shoulders and captured her gaze with the intensity of his own. "You are Viddathari," Fenris reminded her, much in the same way the Arishok had done. "You have earned his respect, found a place within their society. It will be your duty to fulfill your role within it. But that is tomorrow. That he has given you this time to prevent a war is a gift only you could have received. Do not concern yourself with what may come. Focus on what is still within your power to do."

Fenris' voice finally broke through some of her overwhelming panic. Or perhaps it was his steady, unflinching gaze. He was right, of course. Allowing her imagination to run wild, to create every possible disastrous scenario in her mind, would not save anyone. It would not stop the war the Arishok intended.

"And if I fail?" she asked hesitantly, needing some final bit of reassurance.

"Focus, Hawke," Fenris repeated. "But know, regardless of the outcome, I will fight by your side."

She took a deep breath and nodded once, thinking that sometimes you only needed one person to have your back. One friend who believed in you, and would stick by you through anything. Though her heart continued its quickened pace, she felt some of her confusion melt away under his calm surety.

The two warriors resumed walking, and this time Hawke's steps had regained some of their usual confidence.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

Somewhat calmer now, Hawke entered her estate, intent on finding Bodahn, Sandal and Orana. Her first thought was to give them fair warning, and send them as far away from Kirkwall as possible. She was surprised, therefore, when Aveline accosted her the minute she entered the room.

"Hawke, where have you been?" demanded the guard caption. She stood with her hands on her hips, her face a mask of frustration.

"Whatever it is, Aveline, I don't have time for it now," Hawke replied, and pushed past the guard captain on her way to the kitchen.

"You'll make time, if you know what's good for you," replied Aveline, grabbing Hawke's arm. After a slight pause she added, "It involves the Qunari."

Hawke abruptly stopped, and with her head down and her back still to Aveline, asked, "What do you mean?" in a low voice.

"Murder," said Aveline. "Two elves murdered one of my guardsman, and have run to your _precious_ Arishok to hide."

Hawke turned slowly, and very carefully said, "And how does that concern me?"

"You have to help me get them back," said Aveline heatedly. "They broke the law, and must pay for their crimes."

Hawke felt uneasy at how much Aveline sounded like Elthina after Petrice murdered Saemus. She didn't have to consider her reply. "No."

"What?" exclaimed Aveline. "You can't just let them pretend to convert to the Qun, and escape justice! They must be brought back and stand trial!"

"No," repeated Hawke. "If the Arishok has accepted them as Viddathari, I abide by his decision."

Aveline scoffed, "You sound like you're one of them."

Hawke removed Aveline's hand from her arm and took a step back. "I am," she said quietly. "And if you care about this city, you'll go back to the Keep and stay out of this."

Aveline's brow lowered dangerously. "You know I can't do that, Hawke."

"Unless you want to start a war, you will do it," replied Hawke. "Ignore me, and it will be a slaughter, I guarantee it."

"I can't believe you're one of them, now," Aveline said, her lip curled in disgust. "You stink of them. I had thought better of you, Hawke."

"I don't care what you think, Guard Captain," said Hawke. She lifted her hand and pointed to the door. "Now get out of my house."

"This isn't over," Aveline said, before she turned and stomped out.

Fenris approached Hawke then, and his calm voice soothed over the stress Aveline had rekindled within her. "We should move along, Hawke," he said.

Hawke gave him a grateful smile and headed back to the kitchen. The others needed to leave the estate - it was no longer safe.

* * *

_***An excerpt from The Qun, Canto 1, taken from Codex entry: The Qun, DA2.** _


	14. To Catch a Thief

**Chapter Title: To Catch A Thief**  
 **Written by: Wintryone, LucienGrey, & FenZev**  
 **Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: The fate of Kirkwall hangs in the balance, as does Hawke's friendship with Isabela.**

* * *

The calm, serene warmth that normally permeated the Amell estate was no more. Bodahn moved swiftly from the vault to the kitchen to the bedrooms, following Hawke's instructions, as well as gathering his and Sandal's personal items from their rooms. Fenris watched from the living room as Bodahn and Hawke consistently passed each other in the hall, dancing around each other with the easy routine of two people who had shared a home for several years.

Orana was in the kitchen, fussing over goods that needed to be prepared for travel. Occasionally the sounds of dishes clanking or pots hitting the table were louder than her typical finesse, a sign she was upset and perhaps a bit fearful of the suddenly unknown future.

Sandal remained in the living room with Fenris, a sad expression on his face. After Hawke had explained to those who'd served her family so loyally over the years that they must leave Kirkwall, the house exploded into frantic hive of activity. Sandal seemed the most unsettled of all; Fenris couldn't recall ever seeing the younger dwarf appear so fragile.

"Are you alright?" Fenris questioned, not expecting much of a response other than the boy's one or two worded answers.

"I like pie," Sandal said, eyes wide.

"Orana, don't forget the pie," Hawke called as she came through the living room to drop one of her packs in the foyer. On her way back, she knelt before Sandal. "If all goes well, you'll be back here in a few days, alright?"

Sandal nodded, and then gave her a questioning look. "Enchantment?"

Hawke couldn't help the smile that curled her lips. Even in the most chaotic of situations, Sandal always broke the tension. She handed him her sword. "Please. Whatever you see fit, of course."

He clapped his hands together before taking her sword and laying it on the table. Hawke continued on back up the stairs to her room, but a knock at the door had her running back down with double her usual speed. Hoping it was Varric with some news, she swung the door open with an almost relieved sigh, until she saw that it wasn't her hairy-chested friend.

"Knight-Captain," she greeted Cullen. "Forgive me, but now is really not a good time for a visit."

Cullen's somber mood made her uneasy. "We need to talk, Hawke."

She glanced back at Fenris in the living room, who was already on his feet, as she opened the door wider for Cullen to enter. "Alright, come on in."

Hawke led him through the living room to the study, Fenris following close behind. She closed the door firmly and turned to face the knight-captain. "What can I do for you?" she asked, settling into a chair as Fenris took his place beside her.

"Unfortunately, this isn't a social call," Cullen began. "I am here under an official capacity."

"Oh?" Hawke said. "I am harboring no mages, so I don't see what the Templars would want with me."

Cullen cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable to begin the conversation. "The Knight-Commander has asked me to speak with you in regards to the recent death of a member of the Chantry," he said, watching her for a reaction. "Mother Petrice, to be specific. We are aware the two of you have had...altercations in the past."

"I see," Hawke said casually. "Odd that the Captain of the Guard was just here, and she made no mention of this."

"The matter has not been brought to the attention of the Guard," Cullen informed her. "This is an... internal matter."

"You are leading this investigation into Mother Petrice's death?" Hawke asked. That Cullen would be chosen for this task piqued her curiosity. Of all the Templars in the Gallows, Hawke had always believed him to be a man of honor.

"I am," Cullen replied.

"I'm curious then, are you also looking into the murder of Saemus Dumar?" Hawke questioned, now watching him for a reaction. "I believe you may find the two are very much connected."

Cullen sighed. "A statement that says you know full well what happened in the Chantry," he said. "The Viscount is beside himself, not speaking with me, Bran, or anyone on the matter. And Elthina is being just as evasive, yet two people are dead, and someone must answer for those crimes."

Hawke rubbed her temple, frustration building within her. Fenris placed his hand on the back of her chair, and though the show of support was subtle, it was enough to calm her demeanor. "Mother Petrice was responsible for Saemus' death," Hawke said quietly, knowing that within her role as Viddathari, she must give him as much of the truth as she could. Her honor was now more than just a code of ethics, it was the life she'd chosen to live. "And as for Petrice's death, I'm sorry Cullen, but if I say any more on what I know, it could be construed as blasphemy."

"A line you have already crossed by implicating Petrice in Saemus' murder," Cullen pointed out.

The laughter that erupted from Hawke surprised both Cullen and Fenris. It took her a moment to recover before she apologized. The truth, it seemed, was very much setting her free from the last dregs of her anxiety. "I'm sorry, but the number of lines being crossed in this town lately is laughable. You want to know what happened to Petrice? Ask Elthina, or better yet, Meredith. Ask them exactly how Sister Petrice became Mother Petrice. And when you're done with those questions, ask them both about the dungeons below the Chantry. Or do you already know about those?"

Fenris held his breath, not realizing Hawke had planned to reveal what she knew to the Templar. He and Hawke both noticed the confusion in the knight-captain's expression. Clearly, Cullen knew nothing about the dungeons, or the extracurricular activities of the Knight-Commander and the Grand Cleric.

Thankfully, a knock at the door interrupted the tense moment, the sound soon followed by Bodahn entering to announce, "Sorry to disturb, but Varric Tethras is here."

"Tell him we'll be right out, Bodahn," Hawke informed the dwarf, before turning her attention back to Cullen. "Are we done here? Because as you can see, I am quite busy."

"I will resume my own investigations, but may need to talk with you again, Serah Hawke," Cullen said as he passed Varric on his way out the door.

Varric nearly walked into Hawke, his astonished gaze on the exiting knight-captain. "What was that about?" he asked.

"I'll explain later," Hawke replied, pushing back the tendril of fear that tried to reclaim her. "What do you know?"

"Well, it's not as simple as we thought, Hawke," Varric hedged.

"Did you find Sam or not?" she asked.

"Sort of?" he answered.

"Varric, you know we have no time for this. Tell me, where is Sam, and does he have the relic?"

"Could be he does," Varric said. "Or by now, someone else might have it."

"Someone else? Really Varric, you're never this evasive unless you know something you don't want me to know. Who..." she began. But in that moment, she heard the Arishok's voice as clearly as if he were in the room with them.

_Years ago, filth stole from us, a simple act of greed..._

Who had he been talking about? It was coming together in her mind, the pieces fitting slowly as her memory recalled other conversations among the Arishok and her companions.

" _I did not intend to land here," the Arishok had said._

" _You know, you promised me you'd tell me how your ship wrecked," a memory of Varric's voice lingered._

And Hawke could have smacked herself when she finally remembered just who had been talking about a relic for _years_. Looking for a relic she'd lost when her ship had wrecked in a storm. Add to that her constant avoidance of the compound...

"Isabela," Hawke said in a toneless voice.

"Now Hawke," Varric said. "Don't jump to conclusions. We need to talk to Rivaini first."

"I'll talk to her alright," replied Hawke. "Once the relic is safely in my hands."

Hawke exited the study and moved toward the vault when she heard the sounds of Bodahn collecting coin from one of the several stashes she always kept at the ready. "Good, you're here. Take extra coin to hire some mercenaries, and get yourselves out of the city tonight," she instructed him. "Assuming nothing drastic happens, you should be able to return in a few days."

Bodahn nodded, picking up another empty purse. "We'll go to Cumberland, though I know my boy and I would feel better if you were coming along with us."

"I know Bodahn, and I'm sorry to have to do this on such short notice. When you do return, I may not be here. But you and Sandal and Orana are welcome to stay as long as you'd like, if you promise to look after the place for me."

The dwarf nodded. "You can count on us," he said. "My Lady, it has been a pleasure to serve you."

Hawke smiled and lightly touched the dwarf's shoulder. "The pleasure has been mine, Bodahn, I assure you. Make haste, and tell no one why you are leaving."

She rejoined Varric and Fenris in the living room, and Sandal presented her with her newly enchanted sword. Hawke studied the runes along the hilt and the blade, and saw the pride in the boy's eyes as she nodded her approval. "Impeccable work as always Sandal," she told him.

"Thank you," he said a bit awkwardly, then smiled and added, "I like Hawke."

Hawke sighed. She was going to miss the boy, and his father. After she said her goodbye to Orana, and assured the nervous elf that everything would be alright, Hawke was ready to go. "Where to Varric?"

"You're not gonna like it," Varric warned, leading them out of the estate.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

"Isabela!" Hawke called as they entered the foundry district. She'd seen the pirate materialize from the shadows only moments before.

"Hawke," Isabela turned toward her, clearly nervous. "What are you doing here?

"Perhaps I'm here for the same reason you are," Hawke replied. "Time to talk, my friend."

Isabela sighed. "Couldn't it wait? There this little problem I have to take care of first..."

"No," replied Hawke. "The relic, Isabela. Why did you lie to me all these years?"

"Shit," Isabela said. Then again, "Shit. I just didn't want to worry you, Hawke. I searched over three years for the blighted thing, but could never find it. Now that I have, if I don't get it back, Castillon will kill me." At the mention of Castillon, her eyes shone with real fear for the first time since Hawke had known her. "A man called Wall-eyed Sam has the relic." She cast another nervous glance toward the door in the stoneface of the building.

"I know this," said Hawke. "What I want to know now, is who's he selling it to?"

"Tevinter mages," replied Isabela hurriedly. "The Imperium has been at war with the Qunari for centuries. If the Tevinters get the relic, it will strike a blow to Qunari morale. That's probably what the mages want." Isabela took a step toward Hawke. "Please, help me get it back."

"You always told me your ship wrecked in a storm, but I never put it together before now, that so did the Qunari fleet," Hawke shook her head.

"The storm was only half of it," said Isabela. "I also had the Qunari dreadnought stuck to my behind like a bad rash, spitting fire and thunder at me."

"If you'd been honest, we could have solved this years ago - together," said Hawke.

Isabela frowned, but said, "Look, the book is right in this building, and I'm not letting it slip away again."

Before Hawke could stop her, Isabela slipped into the shadows like the rogue she was, and was through the foundry door before Hawke could blink twice.

When Hawke reached the entrance, she paused, a feeling of dread nearly overwhelming her.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," said Varric. "Of all the blasted places to hold a meeting."

She couldn't afford this right now, these memories of another night, chasing a trail of blood to find her mother. Hawke shut her eyes tightly, and took a steadying breath, hoping she could will the thoughts from her mind.

"Hawke," came Fenris' voice, close to her ear. The rumbling sound of it was something to hold onto. Something that did not involve a dead mother. "Listen to me. Leandra is at peace now. Tonight, you have a chance to save thousands of lives."

Oddly, it wasn't so much the words he said, but the calm certainty with which he said them. What would she have done without Fenris this day? She turned and gave him a brief smile. "Let's go in," she said.

A tall mage, her staff gripped tightly in her hand, was approaching a scruffy, timid man. "Where is the relic?" she asked him.

Hawke counted seven, maybe eight mages scattered around the room. She scanned the shadows for Isabela without success.

"I.. eh... I have it," said the man, clutching a large, leather-bound book to his chest.

"And I'll take it," said Hawke, drawing her sword from its sheath. Sandal's new runes immediately lit, sending tendrils of blue flame down the blade's edge.

"Blood and spite," said the mage as she lifted her staff into the air. The first blast of magic she released sent them all staggering.

Hawke recovered quickly, and cursed under her breath when she saw Sam running for the door from the corner of her eye. They needed to dispatch the blood mages quickly before Sam could get too far.

As if on cue, Fenris and Varric moved into action, and as a rain of arrows fell among the unarmored mages, Fenris cut a wide, bloody path through the group to Hawke's left. She smiled grimly and advanced on the leader, who pointed her staff directly at Hawke and began to gather her power for another spell.

Hawke quickened her pace, her sword held high, when the strangest thing happened. As the Magister let loose a wall of ice that should have frozen Hawke in her tracks, her sword seemed to draw the magic into itself of its own accord. The blue flames grew brighter, and the mage stared at Hawke, her mouth open in disbelief. _Thank you, Sandal,_ thought Hawke.

"Surprise!" Hawke said, and swung her sword in a wide arc, removing the mages head as easily as if her neck were made of straw. This beheading thing was becoming an odd habit.

By the time she turned to aid her companions, all the mages lay dead, scattered across the foundry floor, and the three wasted no time in going after the tome. They were so close, so very close to stopping this war. Sam would not get away.

When they stepped outside, Hawke couldn't have been more surprised by what she saw if Andraste herself had been standing there.

Isabela was dueling... with Tallis. And there, discarded on the grimy stone, lay the tome. Hawke didn't hesitate, and it was cradled within her arms seconds later.

Tallis took a step back as Isabela lunged in her direction, and the elf blocked the pirate's incoming blades with ease. "The prize for this duel has been claimed by another," she said, looking at Hawke. "There is no need to continue."

"What? No!" Isabela gasped as she turned around, spotting Hawke clutching the ancient relic to her chest. "Hawke? Oh thank the Maker it's you."

"Don't thank Him," Hawke said softly. "I'm sorry Isabela, but I can not allow you to have this."

"You're going to side with those horned freaks instead of a friend?" Isabela asked. "I knew I couldn't trust you."

"I'm doing what's right. That relic wasn't yours for the taking to begin with. I am returning it to its owner - with or without your permission," Hawke replied. "And truthfully, Isabela? You haven't been much of a _friend_. You've lied from the very beginning. When we were trying to understand why the Qunari remained in Kirkwall, why the Arishok kept insisting that he was stuck here... You knew all along and said nothing. Nothing! All to what, save your own skin? All of Kirkwall depends on this book being returned, and I will see it done!"

Isabela pointed the tips of her blades toward Hawke. "Alright then, fine. Duel me for it. Winner keeps the book."

"Rivaini," Varric said as he stood behind Hawke. "Just...let it go."

"No! She wants to protect her precious Qun, let her fight for them," Isabela said. "Fight me."

Hawke shook her head. "After tomorrow, Varric will have the key to my estate. You are welcome to take whatever coin or goods you can find to pay off Castillon. You will not be getting the tome Isabela, I'm sorry. And if you force me to fight you, I will have Tallis and Fenris at my back."

"And me," Varric added. "Sorry Rivaini, but a Qunari invasion on Kirkwall is bad for business. My business, specifically."

Isabela glanced around and admitted to herself that the odds were not in her favor. "You'd really kill me over a stupid book?"

"You'd really kill me?" Hawke countered.

Isabela sighed. "No, I suppose not. But it'll take a lot of that coin to get Castillon off my back."

"You have it," Hawke assured her. "See to it, Varric, anything she needs."

Finally, the realization of what Hawke was offering seemed to sink in for the pirate. She stared at Hawke for several moments, and the longer she held Hawke's gaze, the more moisture gathered in her eyes. "You'd really do that?" she asked, her voice thick.

"Of course, Isabela," replied Hawke. "I would have always done so, if only you'd asked."

"Hawke... I," Isabela crossed the space between them in a heartbeat, and placing her hands on her friend's cheeks, Isabela planted a brief kiss on her lips. "Thank you. I... I'm so sorry I didn't..." She shook her head. "Just thank you."

"If you're handing those out, I'll take one," said Tallis, breaking the emotion of the moment.

Isabela turned, and in her usual manner, place a hand on her hip and said saucily, "You, little elf, look delicious."

"No time for that now, ladies," said Hawke. She glanced at Tallis, "Coming to the compound with me?"

Tallis grinned broadly and replied, "Oh yes."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


The sun had begun its descent in the clear blue sky as Hawke and Tallis made their way through the streets of Kirkwall to the docks. Varric and Fenris were close behind, and Isabela followed in the shadows. Though the Tome of Koslun was safely pressed to Hawke's chest, her companions did not risk her going alone to the compound. Even though Tallis was a force all her own to be reckoned with, Hawke would be unable to battle any ambush while still holding the bulky tome in her arms. Every step closer brought relief and apprehension, waiting to reach their final destination.

Tallis hurried down the stairs to the docks first, Fenris and Varric closing in around Hawke. The nimble elf scouted the immediate area, slipping through the crowds making their way to the ships for the evening departures. As every day life continued throughout the city, Hawke waited with bated breath, praying silently the next few paces would be blessedly free from confrontation.

Appearing at the bottom of the stairwell, Tallis nodded, and Hawke began her descent. The dwarf and elf beside her let no one within an arms reach of their friend as she moved swiftly to the compound entrance. Once there, with her companions at her back and the entire Qunari force in front of her, Hawke was finally able to release the breath she'd held, closing her eyes for a moment of thanks.

"I think I need a stiff one," Isabela called. "And a drink."

Hawke turned and opened her eyes to look at the pirate. "Put it on my tab, " she said, accepting the fact that Isabela would never enter the compound, and it was probably safer for her not to.

Isabela kept her distance, but hesitated to leave. "Will I see you there?" she asked.

A small smile turned her lips. "Wouldn't miss it," Hawke said, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. "Now go."

The sassy rogue disappeared into the crowd with ease, and Hawke turned to face the compound gate. The guard, who was in the inside of the compound instead of his usual post in front of it, slowly opened the gate upon recognizing Hawke and Tallis. He was about to utter refusal of the additional members in the party until he saw the book Hawke held tightly to her breast.

"The big guy around?" Tallis asked, securing the gate after everyone entered the compound. "We have a present for him."

They entered the compound and stood in the middle of the wide open space. Hawke considered how many times she had done so before; when first meeting the Arishok, thanks to that annoying dwarf Javaris. Then confronting him about Saemus' not-so-much kidnapping. Informing him of the fate of Ketojan, and the possibility the Chantry was behind the provocations and deaths of so many Qun. How she had delivered the fallen swords to him, slept among them, vented her grief to him, and then ultimately gave her body, mind, and soul to him.

It all happened within the confines of these walls, this long string of events that led her to her destiny. Now she was able to present him with this gift, a gesture of peace, and of thanks.

Heavy footfalls ascended the stairs from the lower reaches of the compound. The tips of his horns became visible, followed by broad shoulders protected under large pauldrons. Every step revealed the leader Hawke had come to admire and respect. When he turned to walk toward her, and his eyes fixated on what lay in her outstretched arms, the Arishok paused.

"The Tome of Koslun?" he questioned, as if unable to believe it himself.

Hawke gave a slight nod, resisting the urge to break her stoic expression and beam a bright smile. As he approached, the nerves in her stomach flipped several times, wanting to remain respectful in this moment, but also wanting to jump for joy.

Large, hesitant hands wrapped around the book as the Arishok lifted it from her hands. "The relic is reclaimed," he announced to the several Qunari that Hawke hadn't noticed gathered around them. "We are free to return to Par Vollen." He spoke as if he did not believe his own words, and met Hawke's gaze as if seeking confirmation. "You have done this for the Qun?" he then asked. "Or to save your precious city?"

"Can't it be both?" Hawke queried. "Though this city is not mine, as you say. It was simply a stop on the journey. My place is with you."

The Arishok nodded, turning to hand the tome to his second. "Then we depart come dawn. I have had enough of this... place. Come, there is much work to do."

He turned his back on her, but Hawke asked him to wait. "Forgive me, but if I may still have the remaining hours you've granted me? I have some business of my own to wrap up here before we leave."

"You have until sunrise Kadan," the Arishok said. "Know that we will not wait."

Hawke smiled then. "I'll be here."


	15. Demands of the Qun

**Chapter Title: Demands of the Qun**  
 **Written by: LucienGrey, FenZev, & Wintryone **  
**Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Hawke sets out to say her goodbyes, and is faced with an unwelcome, though not unexpected, challenge.**

* * *

Hawke invited Tallis to come to the Hanged Man with her but the elf begged off, claiming she had a few loose ends of her own to wrap up before they departed.

"Don't worry, Hawke," Tallis said, "We'll have lots of time aboard ship to… gossip." With a wink and a wave, she scurried from the compound.

Hawke took her time making her way to Lowtown. She didn't like goodbyes, and in some ways would have rather remained with the Arishok, helping the Qunari prepare to depart. She was eager to begin her new life within the Qun, but she owed her friends so much; she couldn't leave them without a proper farewell.

As she entered the crowded bar and scanned the room, Hawke immediately caught Isabela's eye. The pirate stood in her usual spot, where she stood tipping a jigger of whiskey into her upturned mouth. After the drama over the tome, her friend now seemed as if she hadn't a care in the world. Within seconds, Isabela was at her side, and accompanied Hawke up to Varric's rooms.

"Should I say thank you again?" Isabela asked. "Or, perhaps thank you in a more personal way?"

"Please, no more thank you's," Hawke said, suppressing a smile. "If you really want to thank me, you'll stay out of Qunari affairs from now on."

"That's one promise I can make," Isabela replied with a laugh. "When I think of having my own ship again, being out on the open sea…" She sighed lustily, then glanced at Hawke. "Sure you wouldn't rather come with me, sweet thing, instead of chaining yourself to the Qun? My version of chains is much more fun."

"We have very different ideas of freedom, my friend," Hawke replied. "Yours include the open sea and an endless supply of sailors to bed, while my freedom is in surety and purpose."

Isabela laughed. "I always knew you were a bit daft."

When they turned the corner into Varric's suite, he was sitting with Fenris and Anders, apparently having a heated discussion.

"It's insanity!" insisted Anders.

"Now Blondie, each to his own, as they say," Varric said in a calming tone.

"Why anyone would want to…" but the rest of Anders' words were cut off when Fenris saw Hawke enter the room with Isabela at her side, and approached them.

"Hawke," said the elf. "You have returned the tome?"

Hawke nodded. "It's safely in the Arishok's hands." She glanced at Anders and said, "I take it you don't agree with my decision?"

"Of course I don't!" Anders said loudly, but then seemed to think better of himself and continued on in a more reasonable tone. "You don't have to do this, Hawke. You have friends here, a life..."

Despite their disagreements, Anders had always stood by her, so she kept her voice low and confident. "I know I don't have to, Anders. I want to. I've finally found my place, a life that makes sense to me. Would you deny me that?"

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose, as if fighting strong emotion. "Of course not. I wouldn't deny you anything, you know that." He looked up at her, and the moisture in his eyes made her uneasy. "I just don't want you to go."

Hawke wasn't sure what to say next, and was relieved when Varric piped in. "I've got all the papers from the estate," he said, changing the subject. "I'll make everything nice and legal, you'll see."

Hawke smiled at the dwarf gratefully. "I'm sure your version of legal is very interesting," she said. "Please get word to Bodahn, and make sure he, Sandal and Orana are well cared for."

"You can count on me, Hawke," Varric said cheerfully. He knew her well - knew that the last thing she wanted was sadness and tears.

Fenris spoke up, giving voice to another of her concerns. "Do you think that Ser Cullen will pursue what you told him of the Chantry's corruption?" he asked.

"I hope so," replied Hawke. "Which reminds me..." She turned back to Varric. "I was hoping you would write this down," she said. "You know, everything that's happened..." She couldn't go on, because _everything_ included losing Bethany and her mother, but luckily Varric caught her drift.

"Don't worry, Hawke, I'm already on it. No way I'd miss out on writing this epic tale," he said with a chuckle.

"A well-told story might do more good than a bunch of letter to Orlais," she said. "Make lots of copies - I'll fund the printing."

"You already have, Hawke," he told her. "Remember, you gave me unlimited access to all your coin."

"Probably a mistake," she said with a wry grin.

"Probably," Varric agreed. "But it's too late now."

Isabela walked over and put an arm around Varric's shoulders. "My new best friend," she said with a laugh.

"You'll have the funds for your ship, Rivaini," said Varric. "No need to overdo it on my account."

"I won't need to rub your fuzzy belly?" asked Isabela sweetly. "Or run my fingers through your massive chest hair?"

"Not in public, anyway," Varric quipped.

Anders stood then, and came over to Hawke. "I have to go," he said, his voice thick, and his eyes filled unshed tears. He briefly wrapped his arms around Hawke and squeezed her tightly. "Take care of yourself," he said, and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

"You, too," she replied, and awkwardly patted his back. Without another word, Anders hurried down the stairs and was gone.

"Well, shrinking party," said Isabela. "Which reminds me, why isn't lady manhands here?"

Hawke thought back to the last time she'd seen Aveline, and wasn't really surprised the guard captain wouldn't come to say goodbye. "She's probably busy," Hawke hedged. "You know Aveline."

Fenris, who had been present for her altercation with Aveline, raised an eyebrow at her. "When must you leave?" was all he asked her.

Hawke breathed a sigh of relief, glad not to have to discuss Aveline just now. "We leave at dawn," she replied. "Though I should probably return as soon as I can."

Fenris nodded. "I will accompany you. There is something I wish to discuss."

"Of course," she said, curious about the intensity she saw in his eyes. Fenris rarely brought his problems to her, never failed to be a constant source of support to her. If there was anything she could do to help him... Thoughts of Danarius passed through her mind, and she remembered her promise to help him against his former master. How could she keep that promise if they were to be parted? For the first time since she'd made her decision to become viddathari, Hawke felt uneasy.

Again, Varric broke the building tension in the room. He rose from his seat and moved to stand before her. "It's been an honor, Hawke," he said. "I hope we meet again someday."

"The honor has been mine, Varric," she replied and took both of his hands in hers. "That is my hope, as well."

"My turn!" Isabela said cheerfully, as she insinuated herself between Hawke and the dwarf. "No more thank you's, Hawke," she said. "It's been great fun." She wrapped her arms around Hawke and pressed her cheek to Hawke's. "May the wind always be at your back," Isabela whispered in her ear, then she pulled away, and gave Hawke a sassy wink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some serious drinking to attend to." And with that, she sashayed down the stairs.

Hawke looked back at Varric again. "Off you go, Hawke," Varric said with a slight wave of his hand. "Look for my letters, and a copy of our book."

Hawke smiled at her friend. "I look forward to reading it," she said. She placed a hand on his shoulder and held his gaze for a moment, before she turned toward the door. "Oh Varric, one more thing if you can, please?"

"Name it Hawke," he replied.

"Say goodbye to Sebastian for me, would you? I can't really go to the Chantry now, or I'd do it myself. And tell him I'm sorry," she added softly.

Varric nodded. "Will do. And Daisy?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Tell her to stop playing with mirrors," she replied as she exited Varric's room, Fenris following closely behind her as always.

The two were silent until they reached the long stairs that would take them to the docks. Hawke couldn't wait any longer, she had to know what he needed, because if it was within her power, she'd see that he got it. "What's on your mind, Fenris?"

Fenris stopped then and leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. What confused her, though, was the smile curving his lips, as if he knew some secret joke he was dying to tell her.

When he didn't speak, Hawke went on. "Look, you should get out of Kirkwall, too," she said. "Danarius knows you're here, and without backup, I just don't want you facing him on your own."

"You being my backup?" he asked.

"Of course, Fenris," she said vehemently. "You've stood by me through it all. Never doubting me, never giving me grief. Always supportive, always loyal..."

She might have gone on extolling his virtues, but he interrupted her. "I am leaving Kirkwall," he said.

"I know you think you... what?" She placed her hand on his forearm. "When did you decide this? Where are you going?"

"It's your doing, really," he said complacently. "In your pursuit to find your place in the world, I've thought a lot about my own." He pushed off from the wall and they continued walking slowly down the stairs. "The only time in my life that I recall feeling at peace was among the Fog Warriors, in Seheron."

Hawke considered her next words carefully, remembering what the results had been from his time in Seheron. "Fenris, are you sure... I mean, will they accept you back, after what happened?"

"You mean, after I betrayed and murdered the only people who'd ever treated me as a friend?" he asked, with no self-pity. "At least, until I met you," he added with another slight smile.

"Yes, I did mean that," she said, glad that he was willing to talk about it. "What if you go there, and they want revenge?"

Fenris glanced down briefly, as if he was reluctant to answer her question. When he looked back up, she saw only firm resolve in his expression. "If they choose revenge, so be it," he said. "It will be no less than I deserve."

"Fenris..." Hawke began to object.

"No, Hawke. Listen to me." He stopped again. "It would be justice, yes. But I do not believe that they will choose to walk that path. Not from everything I learned from living among them. They knew I was a slave, and that I had been unable to truly break the chains that bound me." He shook his head and chuckled softly. "In fact, I am sure they will welcome me back with open arms, glad that I am finally free. It is their way."

"So, like the Qun, but different?" Hawke asked with a smile.

"Very different," he agreed.

"How will you get to Seheron?" she asked, her mind already plotting.

"I will ask at the docks, find departing ships," he said. "Perhaps I can get as far as Rivain before I must..."

"Hold it right there," Hawke said. "Come with me to the compound, Fenris. After all, isn't Seheron on the way to Par Vollen?"

Fenris laughed out loud. "Beyond, in fact, but trade ships run daily between the two. You would ask the Arishok to give me passage?"

"Of course I would," she replied. "I found the tome, didn't I? I think he owes me one."

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

In all her years in Kirkwall, Hawke had never imagined she would be leaving in this way. The Qunari brought what provisions they had either procured through trade or created themselves up from beneath the compound, and handed those goods to Hawke and the other converts. Viddathari walked in a constant stream, from compound to ship, loading their goods in preparation for their long journey home.

 _Home_. It was an odd thought, to consider a place where she'd never been, home. And yet that's how she felt. The members of her new family, as she had come to see the Qunari, embraced her and treated her as if she were one of their own. She could see their respect for her in their eyes, and she felt it in their actions, though it was not their way to verbalize such a thing. Qunari either accepted you or they didn't, and she felt completely accepted.

The Arishok was willing to grant Fenris passage on their ship to Par Vollen, and so he had returned to the mansion one last time to gather his few personal effects. Hawke had begged him to hurry; she couldn't bear it if she was forced to leave without him. Tallis had bluntly reminded Hawke that this trip with Fenris would probably be the last few days they'd ever spend together, and prompted her to prepare her goodbye to the former slave. Hawke ignored her, of course, focusing on the task at hand, and pushing away thoughts of saying goodbye to her closest friend until the time for it came.

Hawke had just lifted the last crate of fruit into her arms, when a commotion at the front gate caught her attention. Setting the box down, she ran to the gate to see what was happening.

"I request an audience with the Arishok," Aveline demanded, her men shifting uncomfortably behind her.

The Qunari guard turned to Hawke when she approached, allowing her the honor of dealing with her companion. Hawke shook her head in disbelief. "I told you to let it go, Aveline," she warned. "The Qunari are preparing to leave Kirkwall. Let them."

Aveline crossed her arms in front of her chest. "And I told you before, I can't do that Hawke," she said.

Hawke glanced over Aveline's shoulder at the compliment of men that stood with her. It was clear from their numbers that the guard captain was anticipating a fight. However, Hawke was well aware of the number of Qunari still within the compound. A battle between the two would only end in the slaughter of Aveline's men, as they were outnumbered nearly three to one.

"You should go home, Aveline." Hawke tried again to dissuade her from this path. There would be no purpose in Aveline's death. Despite that the city itself was corrupted, Hawke knew that the guard captain had her own brand of honor, misguided though it sometimes was.

"I will see him Hawke," Aveline insisted. "He hides behind you now?"

Hawke laughed without humor. "The Arishok hides behind no one. You and I were friends once Aveline," she said, her tone slightly somber. "I'd hate to see this come to blows between us."

"You'd really try and stop me and my men from entering the compound?" Aveline asked, incredulously.

Hawke shook her head. "No, I wouldn't try Aveline, I would succeed." With a heavy sigh, she relented, hoping to end this before it escalated out of control. "He won't allow all of you entrance," Hawke told her. "If you insist on speaking with him, only you will be allowed. Though again, I advise against it."

To her credit, Aveline didn't show any fear as she entered the compound alone. "I do insist," she said, and brushed past Hawke to march straight to where the Arishok stood on his platform.

Hawke followed, and with a nod from the Qunari leader, took her position beside the Arishok. They both faced Aveline, Hawke with a disapproving look on her face, and the Arishok displaying his usual scowl of disgust for any of the city's authority figures.

"I come regarding the elven fugitives who took refuge here recently," Aveline said, her tone combative.

"The elves are now viddathari," the Arishok stated. "They have chosen to submit to the Qun, and will be protected. You have no authority here, human."

"A bit convenient, don't you think?" Aveline pushed.

It was clear to Hawke that the Arishok was quickly losing his patience when she heard a low, guttural growl escape him. "You have not hidden the abuses of your zealots, or the corruption of this city. You will understand why I must do this."

"They are dangerous criminals who must answer for their crimes," Aveline said. "So no, I don't understand why you consider the Qun above the law. You will hand them over to me where they will stand trial."

The Arishok laughed, a rare sound that surprised both Aveline and Hawke. "Let us look at your 'dangerous' criminals," he said with a wave of his hand. He nodded to one of the Qunari guards, who went below the compound, returning a moment later with two elves. They were both so young, not what either woman had expected, but there was a fierceness in their eyes that Hawke recognized.

"Speak viddathari," the Arishok ordered. "Who did you murder, and why?"

"A member of the guard," one of the elves admitted freely. "He forced himself on our sister, and when we reported him, nothing was done about it. So we paid the guard a visit and made sure he didn't do it again to anyone else."

Aveline turned back to the Arishok. "While tragic, that doesn't excuse murder."

"Are these elves telling the truth?" Hawke asked, noticing how Aveline glossed over the fact that a member of her own guard could do something so heinous.

"There have been rumors," Aveline admitted. "I will investigate, but they still took the law into their own hands, and I can not allow that within this city."

The Arishok disagreed. "Sometimes, that is necessary," he said, recalling how Hawke had ended Mother Petrice's life for the crimes she had committed.

Aveline knew exactly to which event he was implying. "Like how the viscount's son was avenged?" she asked, looking at Hawke with an accusatory glance. "It was not right then, and it's not right now."

"I would've done the same thing, were I in their position," Hawke admitted.

"Their actions are mere symptoms," the Arishok declared. "Your society is the disease. Regardless, they have chosen. The viddathari have submitted to the Qun, and will follow a path your way has denied them."

"You can't just decide that," Aveline said angrily. "You must hand them over."

"Aveline," Hawke felt the growing tension between the two. "Don't push this issue any further."

The Arishok turned to her. "Tell me, Hawke; what would you do in my place?"

Hawke knew what the correct answer was, what her answer would be. She was no different than these elves, taking matters into her own hands to correct some of the corruption within Kirkwall - to dispense a justice that those in power denied them. She certainly wouldn't claim to be any better than they were, and she stood behind her decision to kill Petrice, just as strongly as these elves had defended their sister.

"As viddathari, they are under Qunari protection," Hawke said. "They will remain with the Qun."

"Exactly so," the Arishok said. "I suspect we are done here," he said to Aveline, dismissing her.

"I can not accept that answer," Aveline said, but Hawke had moved quickly, and had already grabbed her by the arm to escort her out of the compound.

"It's over Aveline," she said once they'd reached the gates. "Take your men and leave, and allow us to depart in peace."

"No Hawke, this isn't over, I already told you that," Aveline said as she reached for her sword and shield.

Hawke pulled her weapon as well, disbelief welling up inside her. She sensed the shift of several Qunari behind her, as they made their way toward the entrance to the compound. While she wasn't afraid of facing Aveline and her men, she was grateful her fellow Qunari were at her back should a battle ensue.

"You'd really do this?" Hawke asked, knowing in her heart it was a useless attempt, but making it anyway. "You'd really take it this far?"

"What is going on?" Fenris asked, interrupting the two women, as he cautiously ascended the stairs to stand between the them.

Aveline scoffed. "I should've known. You stand with the Qunari as well?"

"No," Fenris replied, his voice filled with a calm surety. "I stand with Hawke."

"Then you will fall with her!" Aveline shouted, as she swung her sword, striking the first blow. Hawke retaliated, forcing the guard captain and her men back toward the more open space of the docks. Several Qunari filtered out of the compound, just as Aveline's men charged.

The fight was on.

Fenris and the Qunari fanned out into the open area, engaging whatever target dared to attack them. The ringing sound of steel against steel echoed into the crisp morning air, along with grunts and random, guttural battle-cries. Members of the guard were falling quickly, being that they were outnumbered two, sometimes three to one. Most never saw the blur of blue light that was Fenris, weaving in and out between groups, phasing with his lyrium talents to randomly appear and attack.

Clusters of men fell here and there, while others moved from one fallen group to the next, assisting their comrades. The Qunari fought with extreme precision; every thrust swift, and each feinted attack coordinated, from years of training and experience. Dockworkers and travelers who attempted to watch the battle from afar didn't know where to look; a quick glance in one direction, and they would miss the fall of two men in the opposite corner.

The main battle, however, was taking place in the center of the chaos. Two women faced off, once close friends and now bitter rivals, each fighting for the cause that they believed in. The two-handed sword versus the sword and shield, the warriors advanced, coming to blows within seconds of Aveline's initial attack.

While Aveline was no match for Hawke in physical strength, her shield provided her with enough defensive maneuverability to block most of Hawke's relentless strikes. This worked well to her advantage, until Hawke managed to lock her elbow with Aveline's, pulling her arm back and sending her shield skittering across the ground and out of reach.

Aveline dropped to one knee from the momentum of the move, but was able to spin slightly as she aimed for a horizontal cut at Hawke's knees.

Hawke reacted quickly; she jumped to the side and then sent a well aimed kick to Aveline's sword-bearing hand, causing her to involuntarily release the weapon. Hawke shoved it aside with another swift kick, then reached down with her left hand and took a violent hold on Aveline's throat, nearly choking her.

"You are still willing to die for this city?" Hawke asked, tightening her grip.

Aveline could not answer, the strength of Hawke's grasp collapsing her vocal chords. Her restraint was short-lived however, as Aveline wasted little time in freeing herself, jumping back to her feet and bringing her fist up to meet Hawke with a savage uppercut. The gauntleted hand crunched against Hawke's jaw, knocking the woman backward.

"Are you willing to kill me for the Qunari?" Aveline asked in a raspy voice, bending slightly to retrieve her sword.

Hawke caught her balance quickly, arcing her sword just in time to block another one of Aveline's swings. "Are you willing to kill me for Kirkwall?" Hawke asked. "And all who stand beside me?"

She then spun to the side, and with a lightning quick thrust, cut a long gash in Aveline's arm. The guardswoman had no time to effectively turn around or dodge, her sword falling once more to the ground. Aveline dropped to her knees, fatigue washing over her in waves.

It was only a matter of maneuvering within striking distance for Hawke to finish her off. She gave her old friend one last chance. "Will you end this now, Aveline? Will you walk away?"

The guard-captain spit to the side, blood spraying on the sanded ground, leaving an iron tang taste in her mouth. "Kill me now Hawke, or Maker help you when I get up."

Hawke closed the distance between them, her sword positioned at the ready to strike Aveline with a killing blow. Her heart pounded within her chest, seeing Aveline's face a mess of blood and sweat, and Hawke wavered, not wishing to take the life of her once good friend - the last person she knew from Lothering.

"Please, Aveline," she pleaded through a near-choked sob.

Aveline glared up at her. "You are nothing but Qunari filth!" she yelled, and she threw a handful of sand at Hawke, catching the warrior in the eyes. She'd caught Hawke off-guard, and distracted her long enough for Aveline to retrieve her sword and get back on her feet.

Hawke took a step back, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, and cursing her former friend. Although she couldn't see the blow coming, she sensed movement and heard the whistling of Aveline's sword swing through the wind. Hawke immediately brought up her own blade to block. She swung her sword under Aveline's, and then lifted it further, the awkward angle and stunning force causing Aveline to cry out before releasing the hilt. Hawke withdrew and then lunged, piercing Aveline through the neck.

The guard captain grabbed her throat with both hands, blood spewing between her fingers, as she fell to her knees once more. Bits of sand still stinging her eyes, Hawke could not see the look of disbelief in her old friend's eyes, nor the light fade within, as Aveline leaned to the side and collapsed, unmoving.

Hawke dropped to her knees beside Aveline, her vision clearing enough to place gentle fingers over Aveline's eyes and close them. "You foolish girl," Hawke whispered.

Fenris was at her side moments later, and sharply inhaled when he noticed the bruise forming on her jaw. "Hawke, are you alright?"

With a silent nod, Hawke stood, looking out across the open area of the docks now littered with the fallen guard. She noticed several still moving, groaning from their wounds or dragging themselves to assist others. The Qunari were retreating into the compound, allowing those that gave up the fight to leave with their lives.

Hawke glanced down one last time at Aveline, knowing that she had done the right thing, but filled with sorrow over the death of someone who had once been her friend. If only she would have listened. That Aveline had wasted her own life to defend a corrupt system was surely without purpose, but the guard captain had chosen within her role, and Hawke would honor that sacrifice in her heart.

"It is time," the Arishok's voice called to them from the steps. How long he had stood there, or if he had watched the battle, Hawke was unaware. His voice was a comforting sound nonetheless, his words signalling that it was time to finally go home.


	16. Epilogue

**Chapter Title: Epilogue**  
 **Written by: FenZev, Wintryone, LucienGrey, & Erana **  
**Beta'd by: Erana**  
 **Chapter Summary: Hawke says her final goodbyes to her old life and embraces the new.  
**

* * *

The view was very much the same.

It was a bright, cloudless morning, and a pungent breeze sifted through her hair. The high, black cliffs of Kirkwall rose on either side of the ship, carven statues of bound slaves suspended from the rock above; tortured sentinels, an appropriate symbol for the city of chains. This time, however, instead of looming ever closer as the city had done so long ago, now Kirkwall was receding into the distance, growing ever smaller, until the ship finally broke through the narrow channel and into the open sea.

Suddenly, Kirkwall was no longer her home. From this point forward, it would be no more than a memory, just like her life in Ferelden had faded into the distant recesses of her mind. Yet, what a difference the years had made. She was no refugee, running from the Blight. Instead, she had made a clear and conscious choice to create a new life. One with honor, purpose and commitment, all within the Qun.

"I'm not sorry to leave that place behind," said Tallis with a grin.

"Agreed," said Fenris.

They'd been standing on the deck together, in silent farewell. Now, however, as the coastline slipped farther and farther into the distance, they turned to face each other.

"How long before we reach Par Vollen?" Hawke asked Tallis. With everything that had been going on, she'd never thought to question how long the journey would take.

"For most ships? Nearly a month," Tallis replied. "But Qunari handle everything more efficiently. Depending on wind and tide, I'm betting we land in Qunandar in less than a fortnight."

"Tallis, Hawke, you are summoned by the Arishok," said one of the soldiers she'd fought with back on the docks.

"I'll see you later," Hawke said to Fenris before turning to obey the summons.

Fenris nodded, and turned back to stare out at the open sea, one hand lifted to his brow to block the rising sun.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**  


Over the next two weeks, Hawke spent most of her free time with Tallis and Fenris. Though she hadn't admitted it outright, Hawke suspected Tallis had arranged it with the Arishok, for which she was grateful. There was no doubt that she must part with Fenris, perhaps forever. The Fog Warriors of Seheron fought against Qunari rule bitterly, so in a way they were to become enemies, though in her heart that would never be so. Still, she was glad to spend this time aboard ship with her friend, without worry or pressure. Though Hawke was viddathari, she had not yet been assigned her role within the Qun, leaving her plenty of time to do with as she wished.

It was the last night aboard ship. The sentry's call had informed them they would see the shore with the sun's rising, the next morning. Tallis excused herself early, saying she had reports to write about the incident at Chateau Haine, which left Hawke and Fenris standing together at the railing near the stern. For a long time the only sound was the waves lashing against the hull, and the creaking of the sails as they caught the northward blowing wind.

It was Fenris who finally broke the silence. "Nearly fours years," was all he said.

Hawke looked up, only to be caught by the intensity of her friend's gaze. Once held, she could not look away.

"It's been an interesting journey," she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Hawke was relieved when Fenris' lips curved into a smile. "Most interesting," he agreed, then paused thoughtfully before continuing. "When I first came to Kirkwall, my only thought was to stop running. To find Danarius and kill him, so that I might finally be free."

Hawke's gaze turned towards the ocean, the sudden surge of guilt making it impossible for her to face him. "I'm so sorry that never happened, Fenris."

His smile deepened. "It no longer matters," he admitted. "The hold my former master once had on me has been broken, thanks to you."

"Me?" Hawke scoffed, meeting his eyes once more with disbelief. "All I did was bring a whole new set of troubles into your life."

"Exactly so," he replied. "Perhaps you do not understand how much that helped me. It gave me the chance to work toward something good, something that mattered."

"Now Fenris," Hawke said with a wry smile, keeping her voice low. "I know you have no love for the Qun."

"No," he agreed. "It was never the Qunari that mattered to me... It was you. I did not think to find someone, find a friend, who truly upheld those rare qualities of honor and integrity. Through your actions, Hawke, you have taught me that a better life is possible."

"Bah," she said. "You have all the credit for that yourself, my friend. In fact, it is I who owe you thanks. Your unwavering support kept me going more times than I can say."

Fenris nodded slightly. "Perhaps we should call it even, then?" he suggested.

"A fine idea," said Hawke. She struggled briefly with the sadness of their impending parting, before she added. "I couldn't have asked for a better friend, Fenris."

His smile was bittersweet. "The same is true for me," he told her. "And whatever comes, that will always be so."

Hawke did not reply, only nodded her agreement. The rest of the evening, they spent speaking of other things - things they had seen together, times they had shared. By the time Hawke retired for the evening, she felt that she'd taken the final step in releasing her old life, and was ready, even eager, to begin anew.

**._.\'/._.\~\/~/._.\'/._.**

The Arishok led the way, his second beside him carrying the tome of Koslun. The path they traveled on was sandy, silencing the footfalls of the many Qunari at their back. Hawke and Tallis were directly behind the Arishok, Tallis watching Hawke's eyes widen in wonderment at their exotic surroundings. They had arrived on Par Vollen, and for those that had never been there, it was a world unto its own.

The land itself was wild, overgrown with dense vegetation. Trees ascended far into the sky, seeming to touch the sun at some points. They walked beneath a canopy of leaves, which blocked most of the natural light, giving the area a feeling of dusk or dawn even in mid-afternoon. Raptors flew overhead, emperor butterflies hovered just out of reach, and many insects Hawke had never seen before moved along the branches. The Arishok had been hurried in returning to the city, but he slowed their pace when he heard Hawke gasp at the beauty that was now her home, allowing her a moment to take it all in.

Off in the distance Hawke could see large structures, seemingly abandoned, given the amount of moss and vines that encompassed the stone. The Arishok turned to her before they continued on.

"There will be time for exploration later," he told her. "For now we continue on to Qunandar."

"It's just so beautiful," Hawke whispered.

"It gets better," Tallis told her.

They continued walking in silence for a time, Hawke amazed at the sheer amount of verdant life there was surrounding her. The ocean waves were still audible in the distance, as they moved past the settlement closest to the dock. She'd said her final farewell to Fenris before the Arishok had begun his march; her friend had managed to find a ship heading to Seheron less than ten minutes after stepping off the Arishok's vessel. Hawke had been relieved to find, as she moved out of the fierce embrace of Fenris' arms, that she wasn't at all sad to see him go. She had faith that he would be fine, happy even, back among the Fog Warriors he'd always remembered with such fondness.

Just as she knew she'd find her own happiness among the followers of the Qun.

Hawke's eyes widened as they reached the top of the hill they'd been climbing, and she got her first glimpse of what had to be Qunandar. There was a giant structure up ahead, what looked like a thousand brick arches all lined up together in a row, as well as on top of each other. She let out an audible gasp as she realized these massive arches continued on further than she could see in both directions, and there were more of them than she could even imagine counting.

"The main aqueduct," Tallis said, beside her. "It's magnificent, isn't it?"

Hawke could only stare, her mouth open in shock, eyes wide with awe. It was beyond magnificent, beyond her wildest imagination.

"It supplies water to the city from a spring about a mile away from the ocean," Tallis continued. "Ocean water itself is far too polluted to use," she added, seeing the unspoken question in Hawke's eyes. "I spent hours pestering the Arigena into explaining how it works after I first saw it."

Hawke shook her head. "I thought, at best, the Qunari were about equal to Kirkwall, technologically speaking," she explained, her cheeks warming with shame. "I never would have believed they were so advanced." She couldn't begin to imagine how a structure like the one before her worked, but she knew one thing for certain - nothing like it existed in the Free Marches.

Tallis smiled. "You had only a small, emergency settlement to judge by," she reassured Hawke. "Believe me, you're not the first to assume so."

"It is to our advantage," the Arishok said, startling Hawke. She hadn't realized he was still so close. "The less an enemy knows of our abilities, the more they will underestimate us in battle." He gestured with his head, indicating they should continue the journey, and Hawke nodded back, resuming their march.

It was several hours before they finally reached a set of large gates, blocked by two Qunari guards. They moved out of the way immediately upon seeing the Arishok, nodding a greeting, and the gate opened to reveal the city proper.

Hawke stared around her in amazement. The massive structure of the aqueduct was no less impressive for being beneath its arches. Up ahead she could see several dozen massive domes of various shapes and sizes, made from a variety of materials. Some glistened in the sunlight, practically blinding her with their sheer, sparkling beauty. Others were dull, made of brick and mortar, no doubt, but still astounding. Set between these large structures were more mundane buildings and houses, not so unlike the compound where Hawke had first met the Arishok.

The city itself was a bustle of activity. Scouts had obviously reported the Arishok's pending arrival, because many had come out to greet him, and those who had returned with him. The antaam immediately broke off into several directions, and Hawke watched as the converts were led to one of the larger buildings.

"Do I go with them?" she asked Tallis.

"No," the Arishok replied instead. "Come."

Hawke gave Tallis a questioning glance, but the elf only smiled as they followed the Arishok. Tallis knew where they were headed, and her excitement grew with each step.

The smaller dome they entered was dimly lit, decorated in maroon colored tapestries on the walls, and black marble floors beneath their feet. The long entrance corridor veered off into two directions, and the Arishok made his way down the left hall. Hawke followed him, and Tallis nudged her from behind whenever she slowed her pace. Whatever was waiting for her in the room at the end, Tallis seemed eager to get her there.

The Arishok was greeted by a tall, slender woman, and Hawke took a moment to appreciate her beauty. The first female Qunari she had seen since arriving, Hawke was stunned at how different she was from the males. She, too, had horns; smaller, and only one set, but they were intricately decorated with silver ribbons, which wrapped around the graceful curves in a criss-cross pattern. Her hair was mostly white, with a few strands of black that stood out in stark contrast. And while Hawke had grown accustomed to seeing all Qunari in armor, the woman instead wore dignified black robes, with a dark red trim that almost seemed to glow in the dim light.

"The Ariqun," Tallis whispered in her ear as the Arishok stepped forward and bowed to the woman. She returned the gesture, glancing over his shoulder at Hawke briefly, before the two continued off to the corner of the room.

Hawke shifted under the scrutinizing gaze of the Ariqun as she spoke in qunlat with the Arishok. Cursing herself for not learning more of the language from Fenris before they parted, Hawke strained to hear any words that she might recognize. It was pointless however, as the two continued to speak in hushed tones.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Ariqun finally spoke loud enough for Hawke to hear. "Meravas," she said to Hawke, though the warrior had no idea what the word meant.

"Is all this a good thing or a bad thing?" Hawke whispered to Tallis, wondering if the woman had just insulted her.

The Arishok turned to address Hawke before the elf could reply. "With my recommendation, the Ariqun has chosen you to become Ben-Hassrath," he explained. "As you have already fought beside Tallis, she will become your besrathari."

"Isn't that what you called Salit?" Hawke questioned Tallis.

"Yes, he was my mentor, as I am now yours," Tallis said with a grin.

Hawke wasn't sure what the proper response to such an honor could be, but she turned to both the Arishok and the Ariqun and bowed. "Thank you both. I won't let you down."

"Come on," Tallis said, grabbing her hand. "There's still some fun we can have before the real work begins. Let me show you around."

The newest member of the Ben-Hassrath looked back at the Arishok, who gave her a nod of approval. Hawke smiled as she allowed Tallis to lead her out of the building, relieved that the meeting had gone as expected and she had been granted her role within the Qun. Tallis had assured her that she would excel as one of the Ben-Hassrath, able to apply both her knowledge of human culture and her warrior's skill.

The Ariqun watched the two depart, then turned to the Arishok. "Was her conversion as... challenging as the elf's?"

The Arishok did not withhold the truth. "It required the same task," he stated. "I felt it a necessity."

"Then she is now bound to you," the Ariqun said, returning to her desk. "See to it her needs continue to be met. We will reassign her besrathari to prevent conflict."

He exited the building without another word, catching sight of Tallis and Hawke just before they disappeared back into the jungle outside the city. The Arishok had not anticipated that this day would ever come, when he would once again breath the air of Par Vollen, and he owed it all to Hawke. He hadn't expected to ever return and yet this human, whom he now considered as Kadan, made it possible for him to come home. The knowledge of becoming bound to her, to continue to fulfill her physical needs should she require it, was also not expected. Nor was his realization that he looked forward to their next encounter.

Witnessing her interactions with the Qunari in Kirkwall, on the ship to Par Vollen, and once they had arrived in the city, the Arishok knew that all of his decisions leading to her conversation were for the greater good; the advancement of the Qunari and their role within Thedas. She would integrate well within their society, and prove to be an invaluable member of the Ben-Hassrath.

And she was his.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Fenzev:** First and foremost I must thank my co-writers Wintryone and LucienGrey for taking on this project with me. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, trying to write a story with two other people, but the outcome has been so rewarding. I feel very blessed to have worked with both of these talented writers; if you haven’t read their individual works, please go check them out on Fanfic.net now that you’re done with this ;)

Another special thank you to Erana, the one who had the near-impossible task of keeping up with all three of us, correcting our mistakes, and making sure each chapter sounded as though it could’ve been written by one person. You, my awesome sister, are a miracle worker!

The overwhelming response to this story has been amazing, so I thank everyone who read, subscribed, gave kudos, and commented on this story; you gave it as much love as we have put into it. It isn’t an easy pairing to imagine, and the fact that so many embraced it anyway is awesome. Thank for for taking this journey with us. 

**Wintryone:** Ever since we began this story back in February, Basalit-an took over my imagination. So much so that most of the time, it felt like it was writing itself. We made two rules at the beginning: No hurry, no pressure, and both have served us well. I couldn’t have ask for two finer, more talented writers to collaborate with, and I thank both Fenzev and Lucien with all my heart for inviting me to take this journey with them. 

A very special thank you to Erana, who not only was an amazing beta, but really did help to guide this story along, always keeping us true to this tale, and making each chapter sparkle and shine so beautifully. Also my gratitude to Ekocentric, who stepped willingly into a lively debate with us, and was of immeasurable help.

Ao3 embraced this story more than we ever expected, and the kudos and comments have delighted us with each and every chapter. Thank you all so very much.

Ataash varin kata:  _In the end lies glory._

**LucienGrey:** The honor of working with two of the most compassionate writers has been mine during this collaboration with Wintryone and Fenzev. To have one’s opinion respected, one’s talents praised, and one’s imagination pushed beyond limits is a rare gift, and I have received all of this through writing this story - times two. My love and blessings to you both, and to Erana for keeping it all together.

The ladies above have summed up eloquently any words I could have contributed to this note of thanks, but please accept my gratitude as well.


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